Wild, Infinite Nights: How to Cure Boredom
by last place
Summary: Upper East Side snob, Light Yagami, is blessed with good looks, a hot girlfriend, and wealth. However, his perfect, boring life comes to a halt when he meets a certain party-obsessed red head. Is he an answer to Light's prayers, or a devil in disguise?
1. Bored

**Summary: **Living as a rich, Upper East snob in New York City isn't as easy as it looks-it's easier. Light Yagami, the son of a well respected politician, has it all: looks, intelligence, wealth, and love. But, like all overly brilliant teenagers, he's utterly bored with his normal life. That is, until he meets a strange boy from SoHo whose odd quirks and adoration for partying reels in Light's attention. Suddenly, Light's perfect world comes crashing down.

**Warning:** Drug abuse, some sexual content (not vivid, or anything), mild language, yaoi, and violence. Oh, and a really, really OOC Mello. He's _very_ gay.

**Central Characters: **Light, Misa, L, Matt, and Mello.

**A/N:** Chapters will range from 1000-3000 words. This chapter IS a bit short, but I really despise introductions, so...they will progressively become longer. I already wrote this, published it, re-read...then decided it had to be re-written. Starting a story is always difficult. Heh  
>Sooo, read, review, and enjoy!<p>

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><p>I've been called shallow, selfish, close minded, cruel, but never, <em>ever<em> has anyone had the nerve to call me stupid. I wish I could tell you what ran through my head as my fist flew into the kid's face, or why I kept smashing his stomach with my foot, but I can't. Consequences slipped my mind, leaving me a completely hollow, testosterone-filled mad man. Actually, I'm a bit ashamed of how I acted, but what was I supposed to do? Stand there while some fool insulted _my_ intelligence? Me-with my 4.0 grade point average at one of the most prestigious and challenging high schools in New York City.

Yes, I might have been a bit smashed. Yes, I might have taken a bit too many pills. But sitting in jail, thinking back to how fantastic it felt to finally give someone what they really deserved, I realize it's all worth it. In fact, everything I've done up to this point has been completely worth it. I smile to myself, leaning against the grimy white walls that encased me in this god-awful place.

"You're in my seat."

An enormous mass suddenly stands over me. His knuckles crack as he waits for me to reply. I simply stand up, suddenly unwilling to fight anyone else. Or maybe just him. The alcohol still rushes through my veins, pumping adrenaline until I feel myself twitch. But only an idiot would cross this guy-and I am _not_ stupid.

"Light Yagami?" An officer slides the key into the lock. "You get your phone call."

I maintain my composure, trying not to seem too eager about my escape, as I stride out the cell. I follow the officer silently. My father won't be too thrilled bailing me out of jail, but he's my best shot. Not only does he have connections, but his ridiculous amount of money makes it so easy to spend it anywhere and everywhere. I begin to dial. A few days ago, he threw me out of the house, promising to cut me off. But, he couldn't just leave me here, right?

"Hi, dad."

"What do you want, Light?" Venom poisons his voice.

"I need help-I sort of messed up."

There's a long pause. "What did you do now?"

"Well, I'm in jail and-"

A dial tone cuts me off. I nearly slam the phone back on the hook. My chest wells as the officer drags me back to the cell, completely ignoring the fear radiating from my eyes. Maybe this wasn't worth it. I lost everything: my future, my money, my family, my girlfriend-my dignity. I slump onto a bench, burying my face in my palms. The worst part is I know exactly when it all went wrong.

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><p>Exactly two weeks prior, I was lying on the couch at Misa's place. Her pretty figure danced around the room, socializing with all the guests and flirting with anyone who had desire lurking in their eyes. Although Misa acted like a dolt, she always knew exactly what she was doing. She held herself so fantastically and was able to clean up any mess with just a simple smile. I was lucky, or so everyone told me. Not only was she beautiful, but she practically bathed herself in money. Even my apartment on the Upper East Side couldn't compare to her penthouse in Midtown.<p>

"Oh, Light!" she shrieked as she spotted me. "Did you have to much to drink?"

Yes, of course I did. It became a bit of a habit at parties. I used to be the center of attention. Misa and I were a power couple when it came to socializing. But recently, I lost any inhibition to fit in with my classmates. The truth is, they began to bore me. Their minds were plagued with sex, alcohol, and appearance. After reading too many books, I began to explore myself, finding depth in myself. I, normally too shallow to talk to anyone under a '9', finally overcame my senses.

I was outgrowing them. Or so I thought.

"Misa, I think I'm going to head home," I grumbled, sitting up on the couch. "My head is pounding."

"Oh, no, Light," she pouted.

Sweat poured down her neck, running down her prominent sternum. My eyes followed the bead until it settled right between her breasts. I glanced back up to her pouting lips. She grinned widely, throwing her arms around my neck. She stank of alcohol, but I figured I smelt much worse. I patted her back softly, suddenly feeling closed in. All I wanted to do was lay down in my own bed and sleep. Yet, she clung to my neck, staring at me with those large, puppy-dog eyes.

"Don't leave the party," she purred. "If you stay, I'll make it worth your while later tonight. Please, Light!"

"No, I'm good for tonight." I stood up, swaying a bit.

Misa was the epitome of perfection. She radiated a certain tantalizing aura, always speaking with a smile on her face and a glimmer in her eyes. Like me, she's been on the Principle's List her entire high school career. Plus, she's a model. Her only flaw was her incredibly low common sense, but a lot of people found it appeasing. I, however, could never look passed it.

In fact, I stepped into the relationship unwillingly. My mother, who was close with Misa's mother, forced me into it when she found out Misa liked me. She promised me that, one day, I would feel the same. I still barely find her desirable. Then again, I rarely found myself infatuated with any woman. I just figured my standards were too high, as my mother was not only beautiful, but witty and intelligent as well.

"Oy," someone slapped my back. I turned a glazed eye towards Erik, my best friend at the time. "What's doin', good lookin'?"

Misa immediately giggled, wrapping her arm around Erik's waist. "Isn't he _so_ funny, Light?"

"Yeah, yeah," I rolled my eyes at Erik, throwing him a quick smile. "Hey, I think I'm going to get going. I'll see you in class tomorrow, though."

"What?" Erik nearly shouted. "You're leaving now? Come on, man, the parties just getting good!"

"That's what _I_ said," Misa shrieked, grabbing my wrist. "Light-y, baby, you can't go just yet. We haven't even popped the good champagne yet! Come on, baby, baby, baby!"

Suddenly, her incessant babbling tore at my patience. And after dating Misa for two years, this was nearly impossible to do. I gruffly responded something incoherent, unsure what I was trying to say, before I kissed her on the cheek and left the apartment. I sighed, pressing the elevator button. Maybe my narcissism finally overwhelmed any connection I had to another person, but I couldn't see myself at those parties with those people anymore. Maybe-just maybe-I was bored.


	2. Savior

I was almost relieved when my alarm clock woke me from a nightmare, which I couldn't remember a few moments later. I scratched my throbbing head, dragging my feet towards the bathroom. The mirror reflected an exhausted, run-down version of myself. Normally, my morning goal revolved around fixing up my appearance, but I couldn't even bring myself to lather my hair in mousse. Everyone already knew what I looked like anyway; there was no point in trying. Besides, they all saw me last night. I was a wreck. They would understand.

"Good morning," I muttered as I stumbled into the kitchen. Maria, our house keeper, already lay breakfast out on the table.

"Good morning, Mister Light," she beamed towards me.

Unfortunately, Maria could barely speak a word of English. My mother was the only one in the house who understood Spanish, and their conversations would consist of piercing chatter and giggling. Although my mother was too much of a snob to admit it, she loved Maria. I'm sure if going out to dinner with the house keeper was acceptable in her social life, she would do it every night. My mother, as intelligent as she is, always chooses social values over her own happiness.

I settled into the chair, gazing at the feast strewn before me. Suddenly, I felt sick. I practically flew to the bathroom. I plunged onto my knees, throwing up into the toilet. Clutching the seat, I found unexplainable tears rolling down my cheeks. I flushed the toilet, watching last night's dinner circle down the drain. For a moment, I wondered how happy I was myself. Only a moment, though. I brushed my teeth and left the apartment before Maria could protest.

Outside looked just a dreary as I felt. It was one of those days where mist choked any color remaining in the city. Even the doorman, who was attempting to hail me a taxi, appeared gray. He glanced toward me apologetically with his whistle dangling from his lips. Apparently the entire city decided to take a cab. I sighed, running my fingers through my ragged hair.

"Sorry this is taking so long, Mr. Yagami," he said before he blew into his whistle, raising his arm towards an oncoming cab. The illuminated light on top indicated there was already a passenger.

"It's not your fault. I'll just walk." I tried to shoot him a grin, but the iciness of my voice completely demolished any chance of kindness. The doorman nodded softly, returning to his post.

Of course, it started to rain as soon as I began my trek. I even refrained from thinking, 'could this day get any worse'. I sighed, clutching my messenger back tightly against my chest. My school, St. Catherine of Augustine, was located only a few avenues from my apartment. In the rain, though, it felt like miles. A few pedestrians scuttled past me, ducking under awnings and scaffolds when they could, but I didn't bother. I was already wet, so why not take a shower?

A black, conspicuous car suddenly pulled up next to me. The back window rolled down, revealing one of the kids in my science class. His name slipped my memory. "Hey," he called. "You look a little wet."

I refrained from snapping at him. "Yeah, it's raining after all."

"Do you want a ride?" We never uttered more than three words to each other, but there he was, unlocking his door and offering me shelter. I wanted to deny it, but the warmth of the car's heater teased my frozen fingers.

"Sure."

I slid in next to him, attempting to smile. We avoided any eye contact as the car inched through traffic.

"Thank you," I muttered, glancing towards the black television. I cringed, suddenly realizing how horrid I looked. "Did you do the assignment for Monday yet?"

"Yeah. I was surprised how easy she made it. Maybe she decided to give us a break."

We rode the rest of the way in complete silence. I found myself studying my savior. His hair nearly matched my own, sputtering in different directions. Not only that, but the bags under his eyes settled my self consciousness about my bloodshot eyes. Even his uniform fit him awkwardly. He was tall, nearly my height, but he seemed to shrink in the outfit. His tie hung crookedly around his neck, tucked roughly under his blazer. But the most fascinating thing about him were his eyes. They nearly bugged out of his head as he examined the scenery outside the window. Indifference glazed over his pupils, but they still glimmered in the city's gray palette.

Finally, we reached our private school. "Well, thanks again for the ride."

"See you in science."

"Yeah. See you then."

As soon as I stepped foot inside, Misa greeted me with a squeal. She threw her arms around me, kissing my cheek roughly. "Light, you missed an _amazing_ time! Why did you have to leave?" She pouted up at me, jutting her bottom lip out. Even with the pathetic expression, she still maintained her beautiful manner.

"Sorry. Listen, Misa, I don't feel well."

She furrowed her eyebrows quizzically. The fact that I wanted her to let go flew right over her head. "Oh, poor baby," she cooed. "Did you take some Asprin? I have some in my locker, if you want!"

"No, I'm fine."

"Okay, well, will you walk me to class?" She asked me the same infuriating question every day since we started dating. Sometimes I wondered if she was testing my limits, seeing how far she could push my patience. But, I maintained my composure and forced a smile.

"Of course."

She gripped my hand as we passed our peers. Most of them greeted us with smiling faces, but some just narrowed their eyes and avoided any contact. Their reactions came with the territory. We were, as many claimed, the 'hottest couple on campus'. It used to provide some comfort in our broken relationship, but after a while, I despised the idea. It was so juvenile and unnecessary. I can't blame them for being jealous. Normally, we were the center of attention and envy burns through humans, especially the immature ones, like wild fire.

It took me a moment to realize Misa's babbles were directed towards me. She was raving about the modeling job she acquired two days ago. And wherever Misa went, she expected me to follow. So, that weekend she wanted to drag me all the way out to Long Beach to watch her pose for some swimsuit ad. I'd been to plenty of shoots to know I would be bored out of my mind.

"Yeah, sounds good," I sighed, preventing another argument in the middle of the hallway. She beamed towards me before disappearing into her class room. Dating someone you can't stand is exhausting, believe me.

I wandered towards science, suppressing the urge to run to the bathroom and puke again. Hollow eyes watched me as I stumbled by, leaning on the lockers for support. Their judgements normally bothered me, but I couldn't deal with the extra pressure. Thankfully, the science door was right around the corner. I wandered inside, immediately greeted with waves and fake smiles.

"Hey," I mumbled to Erik, slumping into my chair.

He eyed me cautiously. "Dude, what happened to you?"

I sighed, closing my eyes. "I just had a shitty night. I want this day to be over with already."

I couldn't help but notice my savior crouched in his usual chair a few seats away from mine. He placed his hands upon his bent knees, which were pushed against his chest. Every day he sat like this until Sister demanded he sit properly. I suddenly realized he was staring right back at me with a quizzical expression. Unlike most of my peers, there seemed to be some depth lurking behind his cool, indifferent gaze. I found myself smiling.

Sister Kippling suddenly dropped her books on the table, captivating the class' attention. I hesitated before finally glancing up front. "I know you're all a bit bored of my class, so I've decided to assign a group project."

The class erupted in cheers, until she added, "I will be choosing your partner."

And that's how I got stuck with my savior-L. He seemed irritated about the choice but slipped into the empty seat next to me. He hunched over, waiting for further instructions. I suddenly felt the need to thank him again but I held my tongue. Sister spoke for a few more minutes before finally allowing us to begin discussing.

"We can meet at my apartment if you'd like. I live on 8th and 77th." Although the distance between the school and his house surpasses the that between the school and my own, I found myself agreeing.

"Is tonight okay?" I asked.

He shrugged, his eyes lolling towards the window. "Sure, I guess. I just have to be somewhere at nine."

"That's fine. Misa will probably want me to come out or something, anyway. This way we get some of it done and don't have to worry about it the rest of the weekend."

"Who's Misa?"

The question shouldn't have bothered me. "Uh, oh, my girlfriend." I guess my tendency to believe the world revolved around me clouded my vision. Not everyone actually cared about the petty high school social ladder. In fact, he seemed puzzled that I even _had_ a girlfriend.

"Oh," he traced his top lip with his thumb. "Misa Amane, that model, right?"

"Yeah."

"She works with my friend's father. In fact, I think he's shot her a few times."

"I'll have to ask. What's his name?"

"Matt Jeevas."

I shrugged at the unfamiliar name. When the bell rang, we agreed to meet up after school. I wish I had asked Misa about Matt, but it slipped my mind as the day passed. My clogged, self absorbed brain decided that other things were more important. Like my hair-which still looked atrocious.


	3. Asylum

"Yeah, I'm here for the-" I glanced down at the text L sent me an hour ago, furrowing my eyebrows. "Wammy residence?"

The doorman nodded, picking up the old-fashioned rotary phone stationed on his desk. I glanced through the glass doors, trimmed with gold, into the lobby. It was unlike anything I'd seen before. Not only did the ceiling tower way above three levels, but a chandelier dripping with diamonds pointed down to a marble fountain sitting right in the center. A white mermaid with glass eyes sat upon a rock with water spewing from her perfectly sculptured lips. The water shot into the pool below, where coy fish seemed to be dancing together in the water. A garden surrounded two walls, lined with white and pink tropical flowers and face-sized green leaves. They drooped towards the floor. The floor sparkled, convincing me for a moment diamonds layered the top.

I suddenly realized my mouth was dangling open. The doorman smiled at me, as if he understood my awe. He probably sees it all the time, after all. "Sir, the elevator is to the left."

"Thank you," I handed him a five dollar bill, which he accepted gratefully.

As I walked past the gigantic mermaid, she seemed to be watching me with vacant eyes. I suddenly became very conscious of my hair, again. I smoothed it as I pressed the elevator button. The large, gold doors opened up, revealing yet another spectacular choice by the lobby designer. The ruby carpet spread across the floor leaked towards the wall, which had dark oak panels with gold flakes sprinkled across it. Even the elevator lights twinkled.

I looked for the floor number L texted me, suddenly realizing it didn't exist. The numbers stopped at 22, and he was 23. "Christ," I muttered as I clicked the penthouse button. As the elevator closed, I found myself pressing it again.

The doors opened. And I thought I had been impressed by the _lobby_. I gawked for a moment, before realizing I was still standing in the elevator. I stepped out into his front room, immediately greeted by an elderly man with a fuzzy mustache. His drooping eyes sparkled as he spoke.

"Good afternoon. I'm presuming you're Light Yagami?"

"Yes. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Wammy." I held out my hand, shaking his leathery one.

"Please, call me Quillish," he smiled kindly at me.

Like my father, his eyes shone with a certain wisdom that only came with age. I struggled to remember if I'd ever heard the name Wammy before. With a penthouse as spectacular as his, I _must _have. At the time, nothing came to mind.

"Hey," a monotonous voice called down from the hall.

L stood in a doorway, sticking out like a sore thumb in the elegant apartment. His jeans looked as if they were washed a bit too much and his long sleeve white shirt was just that-a plain, white shirt. No buttons, no pockets-the kind of shirt you would wear jogging. And his hair looked worse than it did in school. I blamed myself for assuming he would dress formally. If he didn't make an attempt every morning, why would he later?

"Hi," I headed towards him. My foot steps echoed down the endless hallway until I finally reached him. He stood in front of his room, which was, strangely, baron. Everything was white, including his furniture. He only had a bed, a dresser, a computer chair, and a study table with a white (surprised?) laptop laying open upon it.

"Welcome to my humble abode," he muttered, closing the door behind me. "Sorry about the lack of seats. You can choose between the bed and computer chair. Personally, I prefer the comuter chair. It swivels."

I chose the bed. Somehow I couldn't bring myself to come between L and his inner-child. He slithered into the chair, pulling out the science books from drawers in his desk. "Alright so, where should we start?"

You know what-before I continue, I should probably explain more about the oddity of both L and his room. The entire apartment, it seemed, revolved around a Victorian theme. Red curtains draped over burgundy and brown tapestry. Gold trimmings ran across the borders of the white walls, enunciating the elegant crimson carpet. The arched windows were the perfect touch, finalizing the castle-like rooms. Under any other circumstances, the rooms would look both ridiculous and tacky. But, thanks to Mr. Wammy's enourmous amount of wealth, it was like I had traveled back in time. Or I was at least on a movie set.

L's room, however, replicated a scene from a movie about a mental patient locked in an institution. I was almost surprised he didn't greet me with a straight jacket encasing his torso. But right now, imprisoned in this jail, I find myself yearning to go back to that room. At least there a large, tattooed man wouldn't be glaring at me...

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><p>L hid his intelligence elegantly. I used to judge him, assuming his thoughts were as unorganized as his appearance. I guess he didn't feel the need to show off his outstanding logic. Or maybe it captivated all his energy to the point where he was too exhausted to even fix his tie. I never admired anyone before, but he intrigued me. Underneath all his quirks, a fantastically brilliant genius shone.<p>

"I think that's enough for today," he suddenly blurted out. "The project's nearly complete. Plus, I have somewhere to be in an hour."

"Sure."

Disappointment yanked at my chest. Normally, I surrounded myself with ignorant, less intellectual people simply because I couldn't find anyone on my level. L was different, though. My phone suddenly buzzed in my pocket, reminding me of my girlfriend's constant need for attention. I furrowed my eyebrows, silencing her call. She would call back in ten minutes, anyway.

"So, what are you doing tonight?" I asked, packing up my backpack.

"Why?" L threw me a wide-eyed glance. "What are _you_ doing?"

I shrugged, unwilling to discuss Misa and my other shallow friends. I found myself suddenly embarrassed by the crowd I've been associating with my whole life.

"Well, would you like to come out with me? I'm going to this club. The same crowd goes every week and we normally stay out all night-if you're into that sort of thing. Remember that guy Matt I told you about earlier? He'll be there."

My phone began buzzing again. I glanced down at 'Misa' scrawled across the screen, then back towards L. The choice was easy.

"But you're not going to go dressed like that, right?" he eyed me.

"Why? What's wrong with my clothing?"

"You're wearing a button down shirt and a tie. Are you going to work?"

"Well, it's what I wear every-"

"Don't you know how to have any fun, Light Yagami?"

The question gnawed at me to the point that I decided it was necessary to prove him wrong. With my friends, going out normally implied sitting at a nice restaurant and drinking a few glasses of expensive wine. They would laugh into their glasses, throwing the waiters glares if they stuck around for too long. Normally, I'd throw a blazer over my shirt to complete the look and, if it was cool out, wrap a scarf around my neck. Misa always raved about my style. At that, moment, though, I suddenly became very conscious about how over dressed I was.

He began to rummage through his closet, which was meticulously organized by color and type of clothing. Mostly neutral colors painted his outfits. I nearly laughed as he pulled out a large, beige t-shirt. He dangled the hanger between his two fingers, glancing from it to me.

"Do you like this?"

"What is that? A smock?"

He raised an eyebrow, but filed it back in place. "Alright, how about this?" He pulled a light blue v-neck shirt from the hanger, showing it to me. Although I couldn't admit it at the time, I was actually quite attracted to the color. The plunging neck line bothered me, but I figured it was my best bet.

He tossed it towards me, not bothering to look away as I began to peel off my tie. His hard gaze settled on my collar bones as I started to undo the first button. I wanted to demand some privacy, but my tongue hung limp in my mouth. For the first time in my life, I couldn't say, 'No'. I pulled on arm through the shirt, and then the other. For a moment, I stood half naked, gazing at the sky blue shirt in my hands.

My eyes trailed up, connecting with his. He cocked his head slightly, absent-mindlessly tracing his lips with his thumb. I opened my mouth but couldn't find any words. "Well?" he suddenly sighed. "Are you going to put the shirt on or just stand there staring at me? I'm flattered, Light, but we have a schedule to adhere to."

"Yeah." My cheeks burned as I dug through my thoughts, searching for my normal confidence. I couldn't comprehend why this awkward, strange guy made me so uncomfortable. Usually, I intimidated the guys I hung out with. L seemed completely indifferent towards both my appearance and charm. Jealously didn't surge through him as we spoke. In fact, he radiated a certain confidence that even I envied. Seriously-he told me he was flattered because I was staring at him without breaking a sweat. It was like men admired him constantly, and I was just another gawker. I wanted to lash back at him, tell him that even if I was gay, he wasn't my type. But I couldn't. Suddenly, I felt insignificant.

I struggled to break the uncomfortable silence. "Where did you get this shirt?"

"American Apparel. It was on sale, so I couldn't say no."

"So you have all this money, but you still scour for sales at cheap clothing stores?" I clamped my lips shut, horrified at the shallow tone that stung my words. I quickly threw the shit on, glancing towards the floor. I almost asked if my hair smoothed out. His own messy hair silenced me.

"Shall we go?" he asked.

I headed towards the door. Suddenly, bony fingers wrapped around my arm. He snapped me towards him, watching my eyes intently. "Light, I've misled you. It's not a club but a rave."

"Sure. Why would that be a problem?"

"Do you roll? Or do blow?"

"I don't need drugs to have a good time," I nearly snarled at him.

He assessed me for a moment before replying. "Just-let me know if you want to go home, alright? I'll take you." He released my arm but held my gaze. I wondered if he wanted me to retreat but I refused to give in. In fact, his sudden fear for my well-being only beckoned me farther into the darkness. Well, now I understand his concern but I can be so stubborn.

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><p><strong>AN: **I hope this wasn't too much filler. I figured I need some sort of introduction to Light and L's relationship and the rest of the story. The next chapter will be much more fast paced and have Matt and Mello-Yay Matt and Mello! Reviews are so, so, so appreciated, I can't even begin to explain. So, thanks for reading...and reviewing!


	4. Hypnosis

**A/N:** I'm warning all of you now. Mello is going to be a bit OOC...and by a bit, I mean very. It's that 'crack' humor, I guess, but I figured why not have a bit of fun with him? He's always so damn serious.

Also, I converted L's sugar addiction into another type of sugary addiction. Don't like it? You should read it anyway! Just kidding...  
>Read, Review, and Enjoy!<p>

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><p>Looking back, I can't exactly figure out why L intrigued me or why I decided it was necessary to attend this rave. I never enjoyed dancing; in fact, I usually avoided any conventions or parties that dancing was a necessity. Misa used to beg me to join her at clubs and, as always, she promised to make it worth my while. Since the beginning of our relationship, sex was a form of currency. I rarely wanted it, but she would cry if I rejected her. No matter how crazy she drove me, I couldn't bear to watch her become weepy. Her face and cheeks swelled and her eyes nearly popped from her head; she just looked so pathetic.<p>

L peered out the window as the town car slowed to a halt. He placed his hand on the handle, hesitating before lifting it again. "Hold on," he murmured as he pulled a small baggy from his pants. He perched the bag clouded with a white, sugary substance between two fingers, gazing intently at it. For a moment, I actually thought he carried around a bag of sugar. How naive I felt when he sprinkled a bit on his finger and snorted it.

He must have realized I was watching him. "Would you like some?"

"No."

"Suit yourself," he shrugged, cleaning his finger.

I slammed the car door behind me, trying not to gawk at the line that nearly wrapped around the corner. Normally I associated Brooklyn parties as dirty, grungy hideouts where punks and junkies punched each other until they toppled over. But neon and pastel colors painted the line. Plaid seemed to be a loved pattern, along with quirky shirts with stupid quotes. Living in the city granted me the advantage of truly understanding what 'hipster' meant, but I never realized they all gathered to some tiny, dank club in Brooklyn.

"Oh, L!" someone cried out in a sing-song voice.

L turned his head quickly, widening his eyes as a blond girl threw her arms around his shoulders. Leather pants hugged her muscular, cut hips, kissing her long, thing legs down to her black combat boots (which were huge, mind you). A leather vest strangled her oddly flat chest and a rosary hung right where a woman's cleavage would normally be. Her blond hair dangled a centimeter above her shoulders, pointing straight down to her perfect collar bones. Icy brown eyes caught my gaze as she planted her lips on L's cheek. Let me ask you something: Have you ever felt that pit in your stomach when someone really attractive bats their eyelashes at you? Yeah, neither have I. Until that moment.

Then I realized the person I was actually admiring a guy. A too pretty guy.

"Hey, Mello," he smirked, completely comfortable with the blond's arm dangling around his neck. I nearly squirmed as this Mello ran his eyes up and down my body. "This is Light."

"Well, Light," he purred. "I must have died and gone to heaven. Aren't you _dreamy_!"

I tried to answer but only, "eh-her-okay," rolled from my mouth.

"Come, come," Mello cried out, clutching my hand. His soft hands had a surprisingly tough grip. "You've got so many people to meet. Oh, don't you just _love_ making new friends? It's absolutely my favorite thing in the world. Especially when those new friends happen to be super gorgeous!"

L chuckled softly, following close behind as Mello dragged me towards the line. "Alright, listen up. This is Light and he's _never_ been to a raver before! So-are you listening to me? Oh my God, guys, listen!"

The group he was addressing all glanced towards him with huge smiles planted across their faces. I studied them carefully to ensure I wouldn't make the same mistake I had with Mello. I confirmed there were three girls and assumed one other guy, but his head was turned away from us as he chatted with one of the girls.

"So, this is Bell, Chelsea, and Leslie," he pointed down the line.

They were attractive, but not Misa beautiful. Bell's nose pointed a bit up, giving her a mousy effect. Her black hair ratted down to her hips. Chelsea constantly squinted, appearing as if something was stuck in her eyes. Leslie's tall figure and tiny waist threw me off for a moment. It gave the illusion that her looks radiated above the two other girl's, but at second glance, I realized her jaw jutted out a bit too much and her eyes took up half her face.

"And that's Matt," Mello grabbed Matt's shoulder. "Matt, can you shut up for like, one second? He's usually really nice, I promise, he's just being a little bitch."

I nearly sighed with relief that my assumption was correct. A combination of the new environment, the strange crowd, and the misjudgment of a man for a woman smothered my usual calm demeanor. I straightened my posture as Matt finally turned to greet me. A small smile crossed his lips as his eyes trailed from my chest up to my hair. I swallowed, holding back the laughter bubbling in my stomach. Maybe it was the tufts of red hair poking out from the orange tinted goggles perched on top of his head, or the furry vest enveloping his skinny torso, but he looked comical.

The strangest part was he actually looked _good_. Like he was meant to walk around in odd outfits with a half grin spread across his mouth.

"Hey," he nodded swiftly towards me. He pulled a cigarette from behind his ears, sticking it into his mouth. "Got a light? Mello lost mine in the subway."

"Get over it already, hun. That was like, thirty minutes ago."

"No. Sorry," I replied, still unable to comprehend how he could walk around with orange goggles on his head. He gazed at me for a moment, giving me a chance to examine his seemingly black eyes. Of course, now I know his pupils had completely invaded his iris.

The buildings surrounding us created tunnels and, as the minutes passed, the wind picked up. It clawed at my back, running it's icy fingers across the hairs standing up on my neck. For a moment I yearned to slip into a blazer, curl up on Misa's couch, and drink until I could no longer stand. The comfortable memory suddenly bothered me, though. Of course I would want something I was used to. Even though I lived in the city, I never stepped outside of the small box I created for myself. Everything outside of it's trimmed, polished walls frightened me to no extent.

I ignored the shivers creeping up my spine as we inched towards the club's door. The group's friendliness was foreign to me. Normally, the snobs I hung out with rarely welcomed new comers, or at least treated them well (unless they had something to gain, of course). I knew I morphed into one of them: unfriendly and pretentious. With the new group, though, I found my normal habits slipping through my fingers. I even laughed a few times-yes, really laughed. Much like L, their outward appearance hid their intelligence. Maybe it was just the thrill of a different crowd or their intriguing outlooks, but I found myself enthralled with them before we even reached the club.

* * *

><p>"He's a good dancer, right?" Mello's lips grazed my ear as he purred the words. The sheer closeness left his voice echoing, pounding, slamming in my ear. A combination of this and the loud house music left my head spinning. I glanced towards Mello, who grinned widely.<p>

"Who?" I shouted above the music

"Matt, of course! I saw you checking him out!"

I promise you, he completely misread my gaze. I wasn't necessarily watching Matt, or one person in general. Dancers waved with the music, creating a pulse through the entire crowd. Their rhythm mixed with the strobes and colored lights created a hypnotic scene that completely captivated my attention. I didn't want to move in fear the spell would be broken.

But some how, Mello's arm wrapped through mine and, somehow, I found myself on the dance floor, pushed against sweaty, moving bodies. At first, my own body remained stiff. I nodded my head to the music slightly, but that was all. L's fingers grazed against me as his arms and hips swayed perfectly to the music. His head lolled slightly until he caught my gaze. He shouted something incoherent.

"What?"

"I asked if you were having fun," he leaned close to my ear. "Light, you really need to let go. That's what this is all about-freedom of expression and movement."

Somehow, pushed between sweating people who nearly humped each other didn't sound like 'freedom of expression'. I shrugged slightly, clenching my fists. Social situations were _never_ a problem for me, but this was far from anything I'd ever experienced. I never danced, and I certainly never rubbed up against other dancers. I took a step back, meaning to retreat to the bar. Instead, I bumped into a girl whose top was a bit too low. She giggled, running her slimy hand across my bare arm. I nearly jumped back to L.

He kept laughing, always dancing. The strobe lights reflected his pale skin to the point where I was sure he was a ghost. I glanced towards Mello, who was grinding against Chelsea. Their heads were tossed back as laughter escaped their lips. I couldn't let go like them, though, so I stood there like a dumbass. Stood there, staring, my face frozen to avoid illuminating any emotions.

Then I caught Matt's gaze. His hips swayed, harmonizing perfectly with the beat of the bass. He held one arm above his head, running his other hand through his thick, red hair. His goggled had fallen from the top of his head, completely shielding his eyes from view. Even through the orange barrier, I was sure he was watching me.

His head cocked and a small smile ran across his lips. He retrieved a little baggie from his pocket and dumped the small pill into his mouth. Before I knew it, he strode towards me. Even his steps matched the beat. As he got closer, a strange sensation yanked at my stomach. I nearly stumbled as he slinked his arms around my neck.

Then, he pressed his lips against mine. His tongue invaded my mouth, planting the pill delicately. I remained frozen in his arms, completely oblivious to the on lookers whistling and howling. I trembled as his lips retreated, gawking as he smiled wryly at me. The pill remained perched upon my tongue. Before I could spit it out or ask what it was, he place three delicate fingers on my lips.

"Swallow." Swallow what? Swallow an unknown pill with unknown effects? Swallow every ounce of pride I clung to as an Upper East Side snob? Swallow my suspicions and seriousness and finally let go? But go where-fall into oblivion? Or lift up towards heaven?

He waited patiently, studying my face as I made my choice. He wanted me to become one with the pulsating crowd, to let go.

So I did.

The effects gradually crept up on me. One minute, I remained stoic in my spot, watching as Matt pressed his body against Mello's. The music suddenly began to speak to me. It washed away my reservations and insecurities (Yes, I have insecurities-I'm not sure what they _are_, but I'm sure they exist. Somewhere.). The back of Chelsea's head rested on my shoulder as she pushed her body into mine. Her curves fit perfectly in my hands. I couldn't stop touching her. Suddenly, I wanted to touch everyone. I yearned to understand them, and I knew I would by just touching their skin.

The music sounded so perfect, everything was so goddamn perfect. I knew it was the drugs, but I didn't care. How can you ignore euphoria when it's dangling between your finger tips? I loved every moment of it.

I swayed with the hypnotic beats, trailing my fingers across the back of L's neck. He smiled so perfectly towards me, but returned to dancing before I could connect us fully. I bounced from one person to the next, entangling my fingers in theirs. Lips pressed against my neck, igniting some a match deep within me. I needed more.

Matt found his way to me, resting his hands so delicately on my chest. We didn't speak as he leaned towards me, his lips nearly touching my neck. Every hot, moist breath he took sent shivers from my toes up to my eyes. The colorful lights bounced off his goggles, nearly blinding me with beauty.

I let him kiss me. Hell, I kissed him back. He snaked one arm around my waist and the other yanked at my hair. Each time our lips touched, I pressed my body harder against his. I gripped the back of his shirt, hoping the moment would last forever. The music picked up, sending our bodies into heated furies. He stuck his tongue out, catching the sweat pouring from my cheeks. Salt spiced his tongue as he kissed me roughly, kneading my back with his knuckles.

"Come home with me tonight," he murmured in my ear. Even his voice electrocuted every molecule in my body.

How could I say no?


	5. Confusion

**A/N: **Special thanks to hudgens77! Thanks for all your reviews; they make my day!

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><p>I mindlessly traced the patterns woven in the pillow. The sun peered through the opaque curtains, greeting me with a smile. I nearly threw the pillow at the window. Coming down from the euphoric high tore out every ounce of strength from my body. Weights clung to my eyes, dust settled upon my lips. I dragged my hand on my forehead, forcing memories of the night before from my thoughts. But as each minute crawled by, the mistakes I made the night before crept on my conscious, ripping me apart piece by piece. All I wanted was a drink.<p>

I struggled from the bed. My legs dragged behind me as I started my voyage to the kitchen. My body crumbled under it's own weight when my fingers grazed the refrigerator. I collapsed against it, pressing my bare torso against the cool metal.

"Hey," someone mumbled behind me. "Are you looking for something?"

I nearly jumped before I turned to face Matt. He leaned against his room's doorway, watching me behind his goggles. The orange film shielded his eyes from view, hiding any rage, regret, or maybe love they could reveal. I suddenly understood why they were plastered to his face; I suddenly couldn't bear the thought of someone studying my own eyes.

"Do you have anything to drink?" I groaned, slumping against the refrigerator. "I feel like crap."

He retrieved a large handle of vodka from his cabinet, displaying it for me. "Want to take shots?" he chuckled. How could he laugh at a time like this? Without waiting for a reply, he pushed past me, swinging the fridge door open. He pondered for a moment before picking up a carton of juice.

"Hope you like cheap mimosas," he grinned crookedly as he poured us both a glass.

The pale orange color suddenly sickened me as I peered into the cup. It sloshed in my grip, nearly spilling from the sides. I sipped it carefully, clenching my nose as the liquid burned down my esophagus. Somehow, though, it settled pleasantly in my stomach.

"Thank you," I murmured into my glass. "I should probably get going."

"You don't want breakfast? It helps a bit. Not much as much as the mimosas, but enough."

"No," I suddenly snapped. My venomous tone surprised me just as much as him. He frowned, shrugging slightly.

"Whatever floats your boat. I'll see you around, then?"

I attempted to calm myself down, but anger and frustration flared through my body, building with every word he spoke. "No, we _won't_ see each other around, actually. I don't know who or what you think I am, but I don't belong here. This place is disgusting. You use plastic glasses!"

"So?"

"This isn't me. This is-too much. Last night was a mistake. I don't know _why_ I let you touch me. I must have been delusional from boredom. Don't try to contact me again, or I'll make your life a living hell. I'll make sure Misa never works with your father again and-"

"Stop."

I snarled, slamming the cup on the counter. "What?"

"Relax, dude. Why can't you just accept that you're attracted to me? It's not a bad thing, you know."

Rage trembled through my fingers. A mixture of the come down and the alcohol burned my veins until my face flustered. He just stood there, waiting for me to make my next move. "I'm not _attracted_ to you. I'm not _gay_. I have a damn girlfriend."

"Misa sure is a cute one, too," Matt chuckled.

Some common sense finally seeped back into my brain. It tamed the fire burning through my body, replacing the anger with indifference. I stood up straight, suddenly able to compose myself. I was better than this, better than screaming at some stranger because I slept with him. Indifference iced my voice as I told him I had to go.

"Light," his voice pounded in my ear as I reached for his apartment door. "Why was it a mistake? Because you don't think you're gay? We just had fun, that's all. Don't take it so seriously."

I grunted, grabbing my shirt. I reached for the handle just as he said, "I'll be here when you want to talk."

At the time, I had no idea what he meant. I just scurried from the flat, unable to look at him anymore. On the way out of his building, I caught sight of my reflection. My normally groomed hair frizzed into a tangled mess. A pink film clouded my eyes. My skin peeked through new holes in L's shit. I stuck my finger in one, grazing my finger against my chest. I sighed, raising my arm to hail a cab.

"Where are you going?" the cab driver who pulled up asked gruffly. I told him my address and curled up in the back seat, avoiding looking at any of the cab windows.

The come down from drugs, I'd read before, felt like a hell on Earth. I always figured everyone exaggerated just to frighten kids out of experimenting. Apparently, the scare tactic was the truth. I literally thought I was going to die. My stomach growled, suddenly rejecting the vodka. An acidic liquid flew up my throat, which I immediately swallowed. It only unsettled my stomach further.

After what seemed like hours, he finally pulled up right in front of my building. I tipped him an extra ten bucks and jumped out, practically sprinting towards the elevator. It couldn't come fast enough. I stumbled in, nearly toppling over a little girl. She screeched, shielding herself.

"Sorry," I mumbled as she ran past me. I collapsed on the carpeted floor, sighing as the elevator took me home.

* * *

><p>"Light!" Misa greeted me at my front door, throwing her arms around my neck. "Where have you <em>been<em>? I called you like, five hundred times yesterday! Have you been avoiding me? I hope you haven't been avoiding me."

"No, Misa," I grumbled and pushed past her. "How did you get in?"

"Your mom let me up," Misa beamed. "I actually ran into her right when I got here. Isn't that just the funniest thing ever?"

"Yes, it's absolutely hilarious," I answered dryly. "I need to sleep, Misa, I feel like crap."

Misa pouted, but refused to stop following me. Even as I crawled into bed, she perched on the edge, grinning towards me. If only she knew what I had done the night before. My stomach churned just thinking about it.

"Can I do anything to make you feel better?" she purred in her attempt-to-be-sultry voice. I groaned and shook my head, hiding further in the covers.

She suddenly bent down, pressing her lips softly against mine. All at once, memories of last night bombarded me; the sensual touches, the electric connections, Matt's taste, his flat. How he placed his hand on the small of my back, running his tongue up my neck. He had whispered that I was the most exquisite being he ever encountered. Suddenly, I found myself craving it again: him and the pill.

The yearning became unbearable, morphing into another form of agony. "Actually, can you get me something to drink?"

Misa nodded, scurrying from the room. I yanked my phone from my pocket, dialing Matt's number.

"Hey," he yawned when he picked up.

"Hey."

"What's up?"

"What you said when I left...Why did you think I would want to talk to you again?"

He hesitated before he answered. "Last night, you experienced the purest form of ecstasy. We developed a relationship because of it, whether you realize it or not. I sort of took your virginity, Light. It's a powerful thing and you're bound to be confused."

"I'm not gay, if that's what your implying."

"I wasn't. _You_ said that. Listen, I just reached this level that's taken me way too long to get to, so I'm going to go. Come out tonight again. It'll be fun."

"No."

"Then why are you calling me?"

For the first time in my life, I said, "I don't know". Sure, it took a certain amount of strength to admit, but I had tumbled so far into this oblivion, that it didn't matter. Maybe I actually did want to see him again, or maybe I just wanted the fix again. But the combination of the two resulted in something too beautiful for words, at least it had the night before; it was the combination I really craved.

"Alright, I'll see you tonight," I murmured.

He chuckled softly. "Light, you really do need to loosen up. Someone got your panties in a bunch or something."

The words gnawed at me. No one ever spoke so boldly towards me, either because they respected or feared me. But, he just laughed as I struggled for a response. "I'll call you later," he said as he hung up the phone.

My body became rigid as Misa walked in. In my grief, I completely forgot about her. "Thank you," I mumbled. Undeniable frustration tore at me. I yearned for my normal cocky indifference to kick it, but it only decided to stop by for a moment at Matt's.

Misa handed me the glass, nearly spilling it across my comforter. Before I could stop it, the frustration and rage broke through the weak barrier I created. "You're such a damn klutz! Can't you be a more careful? You're lucky it didn't spill."

"I'm sorry," Misa sobbed, jutting out her bottom lip. "At least it didn't spill."

I breathed heavily, calming myself down again. "I'm sorry, Misa. Could you please just leave me be? I'm exhausted and..."

"Where were you last night?" she suddenly demanded.

"I stayed over L's all night. We winded up drinking and I passed out on his couch."

"Why?"

"We were having fun, Misa. Why is it such a problem?" I snarled.

"Okay, sorry," she muttered. "I just wanted to know. I'll go now. I love you Light."

"I love you, too," I pursed my lips as she kissed me.

Finally, I was alone. As I tore L's shirt of, a strange smell invaded my nostrils. It may sound strange, but the sweet harmonious scent of pine trees and sweat intoxicated me. I breathed it in, suddenly realizing it smelt just like L's room. I tossed it on the floor, gripping my hair. My life was always so easy and simple. I had so much to look forward to, yet I could barely appreciated the present. But that was just how I lived.

All of a sudden, I actually _yearned_ for something. No matter how much I tried to suppress the erotic, intense thoughts, I found myself day dreaming about the night before and what was in store for later that day. Matt's soft groans suddenly rang in my ear, Mello's incredible body suddenly plagued my vision. But why had L's scent suddenly reeled in the desires?

I groaned as a haunting thought struck me: Why hadn't I desired of any girls that way?


	6. Jungle

**A/N: **Special thanks to HarryPotterMangaGleek as well! And any other reviewers (although there aren't very many of you).  
>I've come to accept that I get like three dedicated readers per story...BUT you guys are the best!<p>

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><p>I spent the rest of the day under the covers with my head buried in the pillow. No matter how much water I drank, or how much food I shoved into my stomach, the sickly feeling remained. My mother came in my room a few times and bustled around, using 'clean up time' as an excuse to catch a glimpse of me. When she brought out the thermometer, I asked her (politely, of course) to leave. Normally, the morning after a drunken night, I sit down and share a pot of coffee with my mother. But this wasn't just any hangover.<p>

Regret continued to yank at me, pestering me, reminding me. I was sure it revolved around spending the night with Matt, or succumbing to the temptation of a drug (which had never happened to me before). How naïve could I be? I chuckle at that idea now; that the regret stemmed from actually _enjoying_ myself. But I was a completely different person two weeks ago. It's funny how things change.

Around nine, Matt, Mello, and L waited for me outside with a cab. Anticipating similar attire from the night before, I tossed on a brown cardigan, a t-shirt and jeans. I nearly tumbled backwards when I saw what they wore.

Mello had beads dangling around his chest, nearly touching down to his exposed belly button. The cuts on his hips swayed as he waved at me. Fingerless gloves enveloped his palm in an array of neon colors and tattered strings. His leather pants, similar to those he wore the night before, had beads sewn up the seams down to his black boots.

"Hi, Light!" Mello cooed as I approached them cautiously.

L, plain, simple L, had his hair sticking up at all ends with neon paint splattered across his jeans. Underneath his white shirt, right by his arms, I caught a glimpse of green markings running towards his shoulders. It took me a moment to realize heavy, black make-up lined his eyes, making them pop. Before that, I never understood why guys wore make up.

And Matt—his obnoxious orange goggles matched him perfectly. Multi-colored bracelets covered his arms, jingling every time he moved. A striped pink and green shirt hugged his torso so tightly, I swore it would explode. My eyes trailed down to his pants, which hung a bit too low around him, revealing his bright blue boxers. I ignored the passion sliding down my chest as I glanced down at my own, dull ensemble. I didn't even _own_ anything colorful.

"Don't worry so much," Matt suddenly called out. "You look good. We dress up for fun, nothing more. Let's go!" Right on cue, they all shuffled into the cab.

I hesitated before I followed them in. Mello slipped into the passenger seat, babbling on to the taxi driver (who rolled his eyes at every sentence). I found myself stuck between the window and Matt. His cool bracelets touched my bare hand. The sensation shot electricity through my body, but I forced myself to ignore every pang of passion rising within me.

Can you fully comprehend the depths of my shallowness? I used to study other people's clothing, comparing the price based on fabric and designer; it provided the sensation that I was superior. For the first time, I examined the cheap clothing and suddenly felt self-conscious of my wealth. Clothing and appearance was part of my status; I reeked of a snob. But they just dressed up for fun and threw on whatever they wanted with no concern about their looks or showing off their money (and they were all rich).

"Is Chelsea coming out again tonight?"

"Nah, she usually stays around Brooklyn. She doesn't like the city too much; too many college kids at the clubs. I guess it depresses her or something," Matt shrugged.

"Why?"

"She dropped out."

"How old is she?"

"Twenty."

Suddenly, I realized I didn't know any of their ages. Even L's age was ambiguous, although I assumed he was 17, like me. "How about you?"

"Twenty-one," Matt scratched his neck lazily.

"I'm only nineteen," Mello peeped from the front. "And L's fifteen! So you're not the youngest one here."

I gaped at the shaggy, disorganized boy gazing out the window. I thought he looked a bit too old to be _seventeen_, let alone _fifteen_. He glanced back, as if suddenly aware his name was mentioned. A small smile ran across his lips as if he understood my shock. Not only did prominent cheek bones jut from his face, but any signs of immaturity were wiped from both his body and intelligence. The only thing young about him was the innocent he radiated, but even that seemed to be just an illusion. A part of me yearned to unravel more of his mystery; to know all of their mysteries.

We continued arguing about his age until L finally showed me his school ID. Mello suddenly swept L's attention from me, rambling on about someone he was supposed to meet at the club. I suddenly became very conscious of Matt's shoulder brushing against mine. He slinked his hand around my wrist; apparently I was jabbing my finger against my knee feverously. Without a word, he yanked off a few of his bracelets and slid them around my wrist.

"What's this for?" I examined the colors circling around my arm.

"You need a bit of color," Matt shrugged as a large smirk danced across his face. My heart suddenly raced in my chest. Abnormal sensual emotions bubbled in my stomach; I found myself yearning for a repeat of the night before. Just as the thoughts ignited within me, my father's stern face and Misa's enthusiastic smile calmed the flames. Just as we pulled up to the club, I decided that I would prove I was straight before the night ended.

No matter how low Matt's pants were, or how his scent clutched to my shirt.

I was the first to step from the car, followed closely by Matt. Fingers suddenly slinked around my waist. Mello kissed my cheek quickly, then dragged me behind him to the front of the line. The bouncer raised his eyebrow at the sight of Mello, but a hint of recognition twinkled in his eyes. Without asking for identification, he stepped aside and allowed us in.

"Okay, we have a confession," Mello purred in my ear as the door closed behind me. "There's a reason we're wearing these outfits."

Strewn all along the ceilings and bar were bright streamers and fantastic lights. Feathers poured from girl's hairs and boys had tore off their shirts, revealing some sort of tribal paint beneath. I thought, for a moment, I was already stoned.

"It's Jungle Saturday! It happens once a year and, well, I wanted to tell you, but L thought you wouldn't come then," Mello chuckled.

Without waiting for a response, he scrambled to the dance floor, grabbing the closest girl. She tossed her head back, laughing as he spun her to the beat of the music. I had heard about bars and clubs holding theme nights, but never something so elaborate. My heart pounded with each step I took. My brown cardigan must have looked ridiculous in the sea of colors. But, wrapped around my wrist, was my own little rainbow.

Someone tapped my shoulder. Matt opened his palm, revealing a tab perched on his hand. "Would you like one?"

I felt inclined to say no, but somehow it landed in my mouth anyway. And I braced myself for another wild night.

Colors swirled together, swaying with the music. Lights shimmered on bodies, illuminating each pore perfectly. I half expected to see a face sprout from the wall, but instead I discovered a completely different world, straying far from my comfortable one. There was more to me than just parties and friends and intelligence. I couldn't exactly place my finger on what, but I just felt it at that moment; I joined a bigger picture.

I was in the jungle, caught up in the intensities of animalistic nature and tree branches. Hoardes of people toppled around me, beating their fists to the pumping music. Their feet slammed against the ground and their faces turned up towards the ceiling. Like me, they wandered far into the jungle and never wanted to return. The instincts which appeared with the atmosphere turned me into a mad man. I was content, terrified, and intoxicated all at once. I wanted to roar, to attack the closet person, to make love in the trees.

A girl caught my gaze from across the room. Her wild, curly hair hung gracefully at her mocha shoulders. Brown lipstick smeared across her lips. I wanted her to kiss my cardigan. She would be my angel for the night. With her, I didn't desire Matt anymore. With each step, the confusion washed from my body. She swayed hypnotically, leaving trails of colors behind her. We danced. We laughed. I never asked her name; I only pulled her closer.

Across the room, orange goggles caught my gaze. Matt cocked his head curiously in my direction. The lights splattered across his face, shimmering from the sweat pouring down his cheeks. A wicked smile spread across his face; I was so sure he had fangs. I forced myself to look back at my jungle woman, who pressed her back against my chest. She turned towards me, peeling my cardigan and shirt from my sweaty torso. The clothes fell to the floor, but I couldn't care. She yanked out a permanent marker and began to scribble odd pictures all over my body. They slanted and curved all across my body, tracing my muscles and rib cage. Then, her tongue ran up my neck. But I never felt that burning desire...

Suddenly distracted by some unknown thought, I glanced at Matt again. Mello practically hung from his neck, grinding his hips into Matt's. I ignored the sight and the jealousy boiling up in me. The music continued to cradle me further into the jungle's oblivion. I just wanted to stay lost in the wild trees.

* * *

><p>My head lolled in the taxi cab as Jungle Woman kissed my bare shoulders. The markings smudged all over my body. Trails of black chased down my stomach. The city lights bounced around the windows, waving as we passed by. I told the cab driver to take us to a nice hotel, one that I could immediately get a room. He just shrugged and started to drive.<p>

Jungle Woman pressed her lips against mine. She tasted of cigarettes. My mind wandered back to Matt.

The city's jungle of buildings frightened me. Overwhelming fear sent tremors through my body. Jungle Woman hushed me, told me it was going to be okay. She kissed me over and over. Suddenly, I felt sick. Reality began to mix with my new found perception of the world. I nearly shoved her off. She just cackled at the rejection and proceeded to run her fingers through my hair.

I pulled out my phone; my fingers trembled violently. The drugs clouded my reason, but it slowly seeped back. I plunged far too deep.

"L?" I called into the phone.

"Where did you go? I just went to look for you outside."

I glanced towards the street signs. "Apparently I'm at 14th and 5th. I'll be back in a minute."

The Jungle Woman started to protest, but I immediately shut her up with a glare. The taxi turned around and dropped us back at the club. She stomped back in, huffing and cursing at me under her breath. I could care less. L waited patiently on the corner with a very drunk Mello around his neck.

"Lighty-sweetie," Mello cooed. "Did you have _so_ much fun tonight?"

"Yeah," I lied. The horrifying realization of the night sunk in harder. The high wore off slowly, but I could still feel oblivion tickling my feet. "Where's Matt?"

L shrugged. "He has a habit of disappearing half-way through the night."

I regretted ignoring Matt and my desires, only for a second, though.

"Hey," someone suddenly called. Matt ran up next to us, clutching a bundle of cloth in his fingers. "I found these. I figured you might want them back. What the Hell is all over you?" He suddenly burst out laughing as he passed me my damp, dirty shirt and cardigan.

"This stupid girl drew all over me," I grumbled. "Thank you, by the way."

"Yeah," Matt shrugged casually. "Listen, I'm about to head home. It's pretty late."

I glanced at my watch, nearly dropping my clothes when I saw the time: 5:15 AM. Where the Hell did the time go? I must have been gaping because Matt chuckled coolly towards me. Mello mumbled something incoherent, but I'm sure I heard the word, 'sexy'. He giggled, kissing L's cheek.

"I should get Mello back, too," L glanced at Mello, who kissed his cheek again. If L felt uncomfortable at all, he hid it well. In fact, his face always remained stoic and unimpressed. Even when he was high, he expressed no emotions.

"L, why won'tyou make-outwif me?" Mello moaned, laughing some more.

L threw Matt a quick glance before hailing a cab. "Are you guys coming?"

"No, I'll walk. Breakfast later?" Matt asked as he lit up a cigarette.

"Yeah," L nodded as he packed Mello into the cab.

I followed behind, suddenly feeling strange in my own body. Oblivion crawled up my ankles. I sank into the pleather seat, ignoring my racing heart. Fear demolished the amazing trip I had before; all I wanted to do was crawl into my safe, warm bed.

"You gonna come too, Light?" Matt peeked his head through the open cab window. I nodded softly, my tongue too limp to speak. He threw me a quick smile before disappearing into the city lights. Regret gnawed at me again. I thought I made too many mistakes in the past two days. I wanted to return back to my normal life, but nothing would be the same, not after the intense trips I experienced. Not after _feeling_ something for the first time.

The smell of Matt's cigarette clung to me the whole ride home.


	7. Breakfast

**A/N:** Err...I think Light's getting a bit OOC. Oh well. He's high while telling the story (as was mentioned at the beginning). There's also a lot of dialogue in this chapter, especially at the end. I don't know why I'm telling you, but whatever.  
>And I'm changing the rating to M because it's really difficult to avoid using the word 'fuck.' It's just such a lovely sentence altering word...sorry if it offends anyone.<br>Anyway, read, review, and enjoy!

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><p>With not much sleep to look forward to, I dragged my feet through my apartment's long hallway and into the kitchen. I rummaged through the liquor cabinet, searching for something to quench my thirst and calm my racing heart. It made sense at the time.<p>

Too many choices faced me. I scanned each bottle until I finally settled with the Gray Goose; it was tasty and would knock me on my feet before I knew it. I screwed off the cap and chugged until the burning became unbearable. I took a breath and another swig, almost gagging in the process. But, twenty minutes later, I was stumbling around the kitchen, cooking up some mac and cheese. Memories from the night faded and, before I knew it, I was humming to myself. Humming to myself and dancing. I almost fell over when I came face to face with my father.

"You scared me," I muttered, suddenly conscious how dry my mouth was.

"Are you drunk?" he asked. His eyes flickered towards the open bottle of Gray Goose sitting on the counter.

"Just tired," I mumbled, running my fingers through my hair. "And hungry. So, I'm just gonna eat and go to bed, okay?"  
>His rough hand wrapped around my arm. "You're drunk, Light. Why are you awake at six in the morning drinking? What is wrong with you? Didn't I teach you properly?" Then, I was being dragged down the hall into my room. My stomach growled as he tossed me into my room and slammed the door. I just wanted mac and cheese.<p>

I pulled my phone from my pocket only to find Misa called and texted several times throughout the night.

_R u coming to my photo shoot tomorrow?_

_Light?_

_R u there? _

_I know your phone isn't off._

_R u okay?_

_Where r u!_

_LIIIIIIGHT_

I dreaded our next conversation; she would chew my ear off. I couldn't blame her, though. After all, I ignored her the entire weekend, slept with another man, and hooked up with some Jungle woman who I used to convince myself I wasn't gay. I would be furious, too But she didn't need to know; not yet, at least. I drunkenly decided I would tell her when the time was right and when I figured everything out. The idea frightened me.

Figure what out? My life was perfect. I had a beautiful girlfriend, a ton of money, a great apartment, and a perfect grade. Why did I have to go and mess it all up? Why did I suddenly 'find myself' in some crazy club on some insane drug with a weird guy (who I would have _never_ associated with before)? My life was fine the way it was. Just fine.

To the point where I drank every night to handle a consuming unknown pressure and sadness. Alright, maybe I was fucked up before hand. Really fucked up. And the drugs and sex were just part of the healing process. Instead of one of those bullshit self-motivational classes, I turned to something else. As far as I could tell, sprawled across my carpet, this was the way to go. I would find happiness. Even if it meant destroying my past life. Or my relationship with my father.

I decided I would be just fine and everything would clear up in the morning.

Well, it didn't. My phone blasted my ringtone next to my ear, dragging me from my drunken sleep. I wiped the dried drool that had crusted on the side of my lips as I answered the phone.

"Hello?" I mumbled.

"Good morning! Are you coming?" Mello sounded all too perky.

"To what?"

"You sound awful. Are you okay?"

"Coming to what?"

"Oh, breakfast, duh!"

I paused for a moment, assessing everything that happened last night and my current situation. My father walked in on my drunkenly dancing and making mac and cheese. He threw me into my room, where I just collapsed onto the carpet and passed out. My head throbbed and my stomach churned, but somehow, I still wanted to go out to breakfast. I actually enjoyed hanging out with people, and that was a damn miracle I needed to take full advantage of.

"Alright, where are we meeting?"

Mello giggled on the other end. "Good, I'm glad you're not like, dead. I'll text you the address. See you soon, beau!"

My arm fell limp at my side. Somehow, I managed to stand up and waddle to the shower. I reached my arm over towards the handle and caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. Somehow, I actually enjoyed the person staring back at me. He was completely unrecognizable with big, black bags hanging under his bloodshot, sleepy eyes. Dirt was sprinkled under his chin and ruminants of those tribal markings crept up his neck. I looked like a rough night and, for the first time in my life, I wore the look proudly. I took my hand from the shower handle, threw a white t-shirt on, and headed out the door before anyone stopped me.

I felt powerful, like I ripped the leash from my family's hand and started to live my own life. The doorman threw me his typical work smile and I found myself grinning at him. He raised an eyebrow, but a dimple suddenly appeared on his cheeks as he smiled wider. I never noticed it before.

"Good morning, Mr. Yagami."

"Good morning, Horace. How are you doing?"

"Fine, sir. Do you need a cab?"

"Yes please."

He placed his whistle between his lips and raised his arm towards the street. Every so often, he glanced back at me. I knew I must have looked different. I _felt_ different. After that trip last night and showing my father I wasn't the perfect son he thought I was, I felt comfortable with myself. Even if I had no idea who I was, yet. But I wanted to know, I _had _to know. I wanted happiness, and that day was the beginning of my journey to find it.

I was glowing and even the doorman recognized it.

A cab pulled up and I placed a twenty in Horace's pudgy fingers. He glanced up at me, about to reject the tip, but I never gave him the chance. I stole a glance back at him as the cab pulled away. He was just gazing at the bill with his jaw dangling open. I couldn't stop the smile spreading across my lips. So this was why philanthropy was so popular.

I tipped the cab driver twenty when we stopped in front of the restaurant. The outdoor seats were almost completely packed and it took me a minute to spot Matt sitting by himself towards the back of the crowd. He was slouched over what looked like a PS3 with a twisted grimace planted on his lips. A large camera hung around his neck, resting its lens on his legs. I climbed over the barrier which separated the outdoor seating from the sidewalk, ignoring the glares that the waiters and people seated threw at me.

"Hey," I grinned as I took the seat next to him. He glanced up towards me, nodding softly, then buried his attention back in his game. We sat in silence for a few moments until he saved his place and turned it off.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I just had to save my spot."

His voice was hoarse. Behind his goggles, I spotted thick crimson veins creeping across the whites of his eyes. A gray tint covered his skin. He glanced towards me, throwing me a quick, forced smile.

We sat in silence for a moment, examining each other. I wondered if I jumped the gun when I decided to change my life. I barely understood what happened the past two nights; how could I change my life because of it? "So how was the rest of your night?" I asked, suddenly unable to bear my thoughts stirring in the silence.

"It was alright. I walked home and couldn't sleep," he said as he threw his arms into the air, stretching and yawning. "I don't know why I agree to come out to breakfast every time. It's exhausting. But I can't say no to Mello. How was the rest of your night?"

"I got drunk."

"You got drunk?" he eyed me quizzically.

"Yeah."

The second the words came from my lips, I knew how ridiculous it sounded. His upper lip twitched until a large grin appeared. He looked particularly spectacular when he smiled. The way his front teeth stuck out a bit more than the rest, and his emerald eyes glistened behind his goggles…I couldn't help but smile myself. At the time, it was odd how I could smile all weekend.

"So, let me get this straight. You got home from a club at six in the morning after dropping acid and decided to get drunk?" The words sputtered out between chuckles. Deep indents lined his lips as he suddenly burst out laughing.

It was contagious. "I guess I wasn't done," I chuckled, still too conscious of my surroundings to draw attention to my laughter. We received a few glances, but nothing more. Even those made me want to clamp my mouth shut.

"What's so funny?" someone suddenly chirped behind us.

"Light decided to get drunk when he got home," Matt began to calm down as Mello slid into the chair across from him.

Mello leaned back, tilting his head towards the sky. "You're a bit of an animal, aren't you?" he smiled casually. The Mello I had grown used to, the feisty, flamboyant energizer battery didn't sit in front of me. In fact, he seemed drained and looked a bit too yellow under the sun. But, just like Matt, he somehow still looked great.

"So, Chris called me when I got home," he kept watching the sky.

"Christ, Mel, you didn't talk to him, did you?"

Mello bit his lip, finally glancing toward Matt. Guilt washed across his expression as he shrugged. Curiosity gnawed at me, but I kept my mouth shut. I didn't want to intrude on his business; if he wanted to tell me, he would. Besides, he was mentioning it already. I'm sure I'd hear the whole story before we got the check.

Matt scowled. "Seriously, Mello? Are you fucking serious? What the fuck do you expect me to say?"

"But…"

"What?"

"He just wants to talk to you."

Suddenly, Matt stood up from the table, shoved his PS3 in his pocket, and disappeared into the restaurant and out the door. I glanced towards Mello, who just stared blankly at Matt's empty seat.

"Fuck," he mumbled as he stood up.

"Sit down," I demanded. "Wait for L. I'll go get him."

I followed the route I had last seen Matt take a found him sitting across the street on a bench next to Central park, lighting a cigarette with one that was almost done.

I sat down next to him. We stayed completely silent for about ten minutes until he pulled out a pill case from his pocket and dumped two in his mouth. Finally, he turned towards me with cloudy eyes.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Sorry about that."

We only slept together once. We only met twice. Maybe it was a strange, 'love at first sight' connection, or maybe it was just the drugs, but he looked at me as if he trusted me. He watched me intently and I could no longer deny my feelings for him. I couldn't tell you if it was just compassion or something more, but something was lurking deep within me.

And just as I thought he was about to tell me about Chris, whoever that is, a half smiled danced across his lips and he asked, "Can I take pictures of you?"

The question threw me off a bit. Here I thought we were about to have some profound, relationship-altering conversation that could either enhance or wipe away my feelings for him, but he steered the conversation away from it. And I couldn't be more thankful. No matter how 'ready' I was to start accepting myself, it still scared the hell out of me. I couldn't leap into it; taking it one step at a time was the only way I could handle it. Believe me, I'm not nearly as strong as I appear to be. Don't be fooled.

"Alright," I shrugged.

He held up his huge camera, which I realized was at least twenty years old. There was no digital screen and it had one of those metal bodies and the manual crank to feed the film. He peered at me through the lens, smiling casually.

"Have you ever modeled before?"

"No," I laughed. He snapped a picture. Suddenly, blood rushed to my ears as I realized how uncomfortable I was. People only took pictures of me at socialite events or at Misa's parties. No one ever _captured_ me on film, or whatever that expression is. But Matt wanted me to be his subject. Buried under the embarrassment, though, I was perfectly fine with that.

"You should. You have a perfect bone structure. You're very photogenic. If I took a picture of you laughing hysterically, I'm sure you'd still look great. Which, by the way, is so obscenely rare. Especially for a guy."

"Why?"

"Oh, the wrinkles, the wide open mouth, and the angles make it difficult to make someone look good while they're laughing. Unless they're forcing the laughter, of course. Try taking a picture of someone while they're getting tickled. It's not pretty."

He snapped another picture of me, dropping the camera from his eyes. He stared at me for a few minutes. "You really are beautiful."

I struggled to answer, but he made it much easier for me. He took another picture, then another.

"Light Yagami," he murmured, pulling his legs up to his chest. "I think I want to make you my new project."

"What does that mean?"

"I have a photo shoot today, and I want you to come. I'll see if I can incorporate you with the other model."

I cocked my head, trying to decipher what game he was playing. But his sincere expression never altered. Apparently, he actually wanted me to come to the shoot.

"Oh crap," I exclaimed, yanking my phone from my pants. Matt raised an eyebrow as I dialed Misa. He peered towards the phone and suddenly burst out laughing. I threw him a glare as the phone began to ring.

Misa practically screamed at me from the other end. It took a few minutes to calm her down. Matt's eyes remained on me the entire time. After I subdued her anger and convinced her I was just really sick, she reverted back to her peppy, irritating self.

"Are you coming to my photo shoot, Light?" she sang in my ear.

"Of course," I sighed.

I couldn't continue to avoid her. Breaking up with Misa would be the turning point. My parents would begin to ask questions and turn their backs on me. After all, the Amane and Yagami family were 'destined' to become one.

We said our good-byes and I hung up. Matt still had a ridiculous grin on his face. "What?" I narrowed my eyes.

"Misa Amane is your _girlfriend_?"

"Yeah," I sighed. "Not by choice."

A teasing glimmer passed through his eyes. "She's quite a catch, Light."

I had forgotten that Matt and his father were one of Misa's many photographers. The connections were becoming unbearable. I wished I could run away and start over, but where the hell would I go? And could I even live without money? I slumped into my seat as the agony and frustration weighed me down.

"I'm actually going to shoot her later."

"What?" I exclaimed, jumping from the bench. "No, you have to cancel."

"Why?"

"Because the three of us can't be together."

"Why not?"

I scowled at him. He was tormenting me and getting a _laugh_ out of it.

"Because we fucked?" he blurted out, smiling widely. "Light, I thought you didn't care about it."

"I don't."

"You're turning red. Come on, let's go back. I'm starving. Besides, we have somewhere to be in two hours."

"Should we act like we don't know each other?" I wondered out loud.

Matt stood up, brushing his fingers against my palm. I immediately yanked my hand away and shoved it into my pockets. The stress built up and all I wanted to do was bolt.

"Light," his playful smile suddenly vanished. "I don't think I could act like I don't know you. And I'm not one to lie about who I am."

At the time, I couldn't figure out why the words tore at me. I just shrugged and decided I had to make up a story to satisfy Misa's curiosity. After all, I was 'sick at home' the day before. I scratched my eyebrow vigorously, suddenly craving something…anything…to subdue the pressure and pain.

"Got any more of those pills?"

"The vicodin?"

"Yeah."

He pulled out his bottle and handed me a pill, watching as I tossed it into my mouth. "I don't think I'm ready for this," I mumbled. He suddenly lifted his camera and snapped another picture just as the pill slid down my esophagus.

"You'll be fine," he smiled softly as he slid his arm through mine. The contact felt so wonderful that I couldn't bring myself to push him away.


	8. Relax

**A/N:** Wow I think those were the most reviews I've ever received from one chapter (besides one of my one-shots). But yay! Thank you guys, that was awesome! This chapter's a bit of filler, but the chapter after this will be exciting again (yay).  
>Since this is rated M already, I'm debating adding lemon...any thoughts?<br>I hope you continue to enjoy!

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><p>The vicodin started creeping up halfway through breakfast, then really knocked me off my feet by the time we were paying the check. My body became so loose and the cool wind and sun felt so damn good on my skin. Matt stood with me at the corner as Mello we said good-bye to L and Mello. They hoped in L's limo and drove off. Matt glanced towards me, smiling lazily. He raised his arm towards a cab.<p>

"You ever dream you were Holden Caulfield?" he asked as we slid into the taxi.

"What?"

"You know Holden Caulfield."

"Yeah, I know Holden Caulfield. But what?"

I slumped into the pleather seats, burying my cheek against the rough skin. A sudden sensation like I wasn't touching anything overwhelmed me. Like I was floating. It felt unbelievably good. So good that I almost forgot to listen to Matt's explanation.

"He's one of those characters, you know? The memorable type. You meet him once and you'll _never_ forget about him."

Truth is I hate Holden Caulfield. I hate everything he stands for and his whining nonsense that he spews the entire book. But Matt suddenly became so engrossed with the idea of meeting him that I couldn't get a word in. He rambled for a half hour how wonderful it must be to star in one of the most famous pieces of literature the world has to offer.

I finally managed to interupt him. "You do know he's a fictional character, right?"

"Jesus, Light, humor me."

"Want me to write a book about you?" I chuckled.

My voice sounded so warped and unfamiliar. But I liked it. Hell, I liked everything at that point...even Holden Caulfield. We laughed a bit, straying away from _The Catcher in the Rye_. In fact, we seemed to stray from any conversation whatsoever. The silence enveloped me, cradling me into a hypnotic state. Pleasure filled my lungs and my stomach. And suddenly, I wanted to dream.

And suddenly, my cheek nestled against Matt's shoulder. His chin grazed my forehead. "You alright?" he murmured.

"I'm great."

"Feel it?"

"I feel relaxed, if that's what you mean."

"Good."

His fingers slipped through mine. His damp palm pressed against mine as his index finger stroked my knuckle. He made no other attempt to touch me; his arms never wrapped around my shoulder and his lips never met my skin. But it felt right.

As the taxi bounced along the potholes and cracks covering the highway, I began to drift in and out of consciousness. Honks blazed and the driver cursed a few times, but I remained in my completely relaxed state. My vision flickered and my lips curled into a small smile. And Matt's grip tightened in mine.

"Why are you with Misa?" he suddenly asked.

"It's complicated," I muttered. My tongue weighed a ton. "An arranged relationship, I guess."

He chuckled. "But why Misa?"

"My mother and her mother are best friends."

"Do you love her?"

"I've tried."

It was the truth. During the first year of our relationship, I forced myself to think about how beautiful and funny she was. Every time she touched me, I forced a smile and reminded myself how lucky I was to have her. She was a good girlfriend, too, but not for me. I didn't know what or who I wanted at the time. I began to believe I was asexual, or something along those lines. No one ever appealed to me, not her, not any man. I never understood myself and figured I never would. Humans are complicated; it's what makes us so fucking special.

I shifted my weight, glancing up at him. He gazed out the window, but a small grin ran across his lips. The sunlight caught his goggles and washed away the small dimples surrounding his smile. And suddenly, I found myself smiling as well.

"Just turn up this road and stop at the boardwalk," he instructed to the taxi driver. His voice remained a whisper.

The cab halted in front of the beach. Matt paid the driver and finally glanced down at me. "You good to walk?"

"I'm just tired."

I lifted my body from his. My chin dangled on my chest. Exhaustion overwhelmed me, or maybe it was just pure relaxation. I wanted to lie down and think for hours. If I drifted off, that would be alright. It just sounded too pleasant.

"Do you want me to send you back?" Matt was suddenly directly in front of me. "Just tell him your address; I'll pay."

"No, just help me out."

I groaned as he placed my arm around his shoulder and pulled me out of the cab. My legs became jello as I stumbled into him. "Whoa, Jesus, Light. You're fucked up."

"Yeah."

"Will Misa be pissed?"

"Whatever."

We headed towards the beach. My deadened nerves finally started to revive as we approached the boardwalk. Suddenly, the reality of the situation smacked me in the forehead. My feet halted right before we got to the sand.

Matt glanced towards me, dropping his arm from my shoulder. "Light, you'll be fine. What the fuck is Misa going to think as soon as she sees us? We'll just tell her we met through L and we planned on surprising her. No big deal. Relax. You were fine in the cab."

I glanced towards him, composing myself. "You're right. I've just been on edge lately. I've never..."

I couldn't bring myself to finish the sentence, partly because I had no clue what I wanted to say. Or maybe because I was afraid of what would come out of my mouth. I'd grown afraid of myself and this new candid side that Matt seemed to yank out of me. Sure, it wasn't his fault, but I still hated him for it. Hated him, and loved him at the same time. Around him, I blossomed into someone new; someone I actually liked. And I hated that, too.

"LIGHT!" The shriek sent shivers down my spine. I stumbled backwards from the impact of Misa's body slamming into mine. Her arms wrapped around my neck as she planted kisses on my cheek and lips. "I can't believe you came. How are you feeling?"

"Pretty shitty," I muttered. "Can you get off me, Misa? I still feel like crap."

She apologized, but still hovered close to me, examining me. "You _look_ like crap, too. Jeeze, Light, your eyes are all blood-shot and...did you shower?" She wrinkled her nose, glancing at Matt; her face lit up. "Hi Matty Jeevas! How are you today?"

"Great," he beamed as she kissed his cheek. "How about you? You look stunning!"

"Why thank you," she purred, grabbing my hand.

She glanced between the two of us. Of course, it took dim-witted Misa a moment to realize we arrived together. I dreaded what she would say next as a puzzled expression washed over her face. "You two know each other?"

The anxiety struck me. But, thankfully, Matt rescued me. "Yeah. We met through L on Friday. They were doing some project or something together, and we got around to talking about you. So, surprise!"

She clapped her hands, giggling. "This is so exciting! Now we can all go out together. First, I think Light needs a shower."

I narrowed my eyes. The effects of the vicodin slipped farther away, and I found myself yearning for another pill. Anything to stop the anxiety. Misa grabbed my hand and led me over to the shoot, where a make-up artist and a few people from the camera crew sat. Misa plopped into a chair and the make-up artist started to paint her cheeks with a soft blush.

"Do you think I look pretty?" Misa asked.

"Always," Matt laughed.

But Misa's eyes were on me. "Of course," I sighed.

I sat on the sidelines, watching as Misa frolicked through the too-green ocean water. The setting sun's light danced across the waves and shimmered on her thin body. The shoot was for some cheap perfume add, and Matt's father gave Matt the freelance job. But Matt knew what he was doing. I watched in awe as he captured her. He tilted the camera in just the right angle that created an angelic glow around Misa. She laughed, and he snapped. The chemistry escalated between the two as the sun set farther.

Then, it ended. "Alright, awesome job, guys." Matt thanked his crew as they started to pack up. He wandered over to me, clutching his camera. He raised it to his eyes and snapped a picture.

My heart raced as he sat beside me on the sand. I wiggled my bare toes; he took another shot. "I wish I could have incorporated you, Light. It's not my job, though, you know? I don't wanna fuck it up for my dad."

"I understand. I wasn't in the mood anyway," I sighed, leaning backwards.

The sand itched at my elbows, but it felt nice. The original anxiety calmed down. Misa didn't suspect a thing, and what would have given her a reason to? Matt and I weren't touchy and, as far as I know, I never showed any signs that I was attracted to him (or any man, for that matter). In fact, I never comprehended attraction until I met Matt.

"Do you guys wanna get food?" Misa asked as she wandered over.

"No, I'm exhausted," Matt yawned.

"How about you, Light?"

"I'm not hungry."

I was starving, actually, but I could barely stand hanging around her with Matt there. Without him, it would be utter torture. Besides, I was afraid I would accidentally say something. How could I trust myself? I didn't know I was attracted to men until a few days ago. What the fuck else was going on with me?

"Well, come over later, okay Light?"

"I still feel like shit, Misa. I think I'm just going to go home."

She shrugged, but the quiver at the bottom of her lip sent shivers of guilt through me. She was great, she really was. But not for me. I glanced towards Matt as she walked away, receiving a thin smile back. The sun finally sunk behind the horizon. I cast a shadow on Matt's body, muting the features on his face. We sat in silence for a long time, just enjoying each others presence. I was almost disappointed when he broke the silence.

"It wasn't so bad. You were very inconspicuous," he chuckled softly. But there was a tinge of pain lurking in his voice. Very subtle, but I caught it. Something irked him, and suddenly I realized something irked me, too.

I fell backwards, burying the back of my head into the sand. The grains rushed between my hair, scratching my scalp. A massage from mother nature, herself. I smiled to myself. "Got any more vicodin?"

"Light."

"What?"

He hesitated before he said, "Never mind."

Never mind what? I restrained myself from prying the answer from him, but I was curious. Curious how he felt, why he was so damn nice to me, why he held my hand. I was curious about Chris and why Matt always wore those goddamn goggles. But I was mostly curious why he seemed so engrossed by me. I held my tongue, though. My father always taught suppression was the way to be a true man. Whatever a 'true man' was.

"Wanna come out tonight?"

"Where?"

"Anywhere."

"Why?"

"I don't know, you're a lot of fun. And stop asking so many fucking questions."

Me? Fun? I almost laughed. I spent my whole life contained in a polished apartment with perfect parents and a perfect life. My future was set in stone and I had nothing to look forward to except an empty, meaningless adulthood with empty, meaningless sex. With Misa. And we would have two children; that's how many my mother wants. Two children and a black Labrador. My entire life is set around the principles my parents raised me on, and it always would be: money, publicity, and success. And a lot of it. That was it; nothing fun about me.

He pulled out his prescription bottle and dumped a pill into my awaiting palm. We popped them together and waited as the relaxation intoxicated our bodies. And that's when I found out about Chris Liber.


	9. Tension

**A/N:** A nice little scene between Matt and Light with some tension. Wooo, tension! Okay, well reviews are much appreciated. I'll definitely be a bit more...inspired.  
>Read, review, and enjoy!<p>

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><p>Matt told me everything. Maybe it was the drugs that made him open up so much, and maybe it was the drugs that attracted me to his words. But his story captivated me. I wanted to be part of the continuation.<p>

"About breakfast," Matt muttered, dropping another pill into his mouth. "Chris is my ex-boyfriend. Chris Liber. He's the reason Mello and I met, actually. He's Mello's age, and they were best friends since they were kids. Apparently, Mello's always been a bit of a girl. Anyway, we met four years ago at this club and we hit it off immediately. He was great, you know? He used to buy me all this shit. Flowers and chocolates. I thought he was perfect. I thought I was so damn lucky. He had his flaws, of course. He always seemed a bit on edge. Apparently it was because he was a damn drug addict. Not like me, like a _real_ addict. He needed that shit to breathe.

"Well, he dragged me into his pitiful life. And I took the bait. For the first year of our relationship, I loved him. I fucking adored him. He was this angel, and I felt like a pathetic, weak, _thing_ next to him. Then, he started running low on cash. I started to buy him the drugs, feed his addiction. And when I didn't, he'd get so mad at me. He'd turn red and scream, then cry and apologize. I bought it every time. I spent hundreds a week, until my father cut me off.

Then, it was just Chris and me. He became a fucking monster. A fucking _monster_, Light. He used to...he used to.."

Matt's breathing became shallow. He buried his forehead into his palms, rubbing his temple slowly. "Sorry. I don't know where that came from."

"It's alright."

We sat in silence, again. But Matt seemed to need it. I guess spilling your guts can do that to a person. I never had anything to spill before. Everything was simple for me, and I took it for granted. What else do you expect from someone who's been filthy rich their entire lives? I couldn't comprehend suffering _or_ happiness. Maybe that's why I was so drawn to Matt; because he suffered, and he loved. I never loved before.

The stars twinkled around us and the crescent moon smiled down. The effects dragged me to this peaceful state, like everything was in sync. I nestled my cheek against the sand, inhaling the tiny particles. My parents used to take Sayu and I to the Hamptons. We'd build these tall sand castles and decorate them with shells and seaweed. And when the day was over, I let her stomp on them. I could never bring myself to. After a while, I stopped making the sand castles. It was illogical to build something just to tear it down. But Sayu continued to set them up every day. And every night, she'd destroy her creation. It made her happy. Happiness came easily to her.

"Do you wanna head home soon?"

"No," I breathed into the sand. "I like this. Fuck, I actually like this."

"Why's that a bad thing?"

Matt lay down besides me, watching as my hands formed fists. Sand hid between the crevices of my fingers. I breathed softly, listening to my heart beating in my ear. "I don't know," I finally answered. "Because I'm stoned."

"So?"

"It's pathetic when you can't have fun unless you're high."

Matt pursed his lips, turning on his side towards me. His red hair reflected a gray tint in the moonlight. Even then, it looked beautiful. "I don't think you know what fun is."

"What?" I sat up. "Sure I do."

"What's the most exciting thing you've ever done, besides this weekend, of course."

"When I was young, my sister and I explored this cave by the beach. We got lost for hours in the cave for hours. She kept crying, but it was fun. I felt like an explorer. And the cave was huge. I pretended a dragon lurked deep within the cave and waited for me to arrive. The farther we ventured, the more I enjoyed myself. Sayu was afraid, but I promised to fight off any monsters. She calmed down after a bit. Then, a coast guard found us. Apparently our parents were searching for us. So, we went home."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

Suddenly, Matt wrapped his arms around my neck. He leaned in close and our lips lingered only inches apart. I breathed him in, tasting his ashy breath. He never kissed me, but he wanted to. Hell, a part of me wanted him to. His fingers wrapped in my shirt and his lips parted. But he never closed the gap. Instead, he just popped another pill.

"Fucking things are losing their effect," he muttered as he swallowed it.

The near kiss flustered me a bit. I caught my breath, though, and calmed my racing heart before I answered. "I still feel my first one pretty well."

"It barely effects me until around the third. I guess I've just grown accustom to them, or something. I don't know."

I almost expected to feel uncomfortable, like those awkward moments after someone rejects you (although I never had those before). But the aftermath of the near kiss never brought on anything negative. In fact, my heart pounded in my ear, aching for his touch. At the time, I thought it was horrible. I wanted to run far away and never look back, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. The way he peered at me through his goggles in the moonlight caused my stomach to squeeze into my chest. The feelings were a new rush, a new fix. The feelings, and the drugs. And Matt had plenty of both.

We talked for a while, telling each other everything. He admitted he never had a serious relationship besides Chris. Before Chris, they seemed pointless, and after Chris, they seemed deadly. He said he wished he could muster the courage to commit, but it scared the hell out of him. I couldn't agree, though. Commitment was my life. I committed to my family, my friends, my school work, and my appearance (especially my appearance). He laughed, like it was the funniest thing he ever heard. It did sound shallow, after all. But I still cringed when he laughed.

"You're a weird guy, Light."

"How?"

He laughed some more, then told me about photography. Apparently 'capturing the world' reigned over 'fighting it'. Besides, he said, sometimes you can fight what's going on by just taking a picture. The truth can lead to chaos. The words nailed to my brain. We've been driven to be truth-tellers, every single one of us, but what comes out of it? Abrupt honesty without holding back? Does a woman really want to know if she looks fat in a dress? And isn't ignorance bliss?

Maybe that's why I was content with being unsatisfied. I never searched for satisfaction. I couldn't bear the idea of gaining it, only to lose it. For a long time, I figured happiness teased everyone. We got our moment, our one moment, of pure satisfaction, and all the rest were shit compared to it. So why strive for such a moment? I remained in my perfect prison simply to avoid living. If I didn't live, dying wouldn't be so bad.

"It's getting late."

"Do you want to leave?" Matt cocked his head. A thin smile ran across his lips.

"No. Do you?"

"Nah."

Matt lit a cigarette. Every time he inhaled, the cherry cast a red glow across his face and goggles. I watched him, unable to speak. The smoke poured from his lips, curling up his nose and joining the sky.

"You know," he muttered between pulls. "I never talk like this. To anyone. It's just weird, to actually just say it. You make it easy, though. You're a good listener. Much fucking better than Mello. Sometimes, I'm sure he thinks the whole world revolves around him. Don't get me wrong, I love him to death, but we can never just...talk."

"I know what you mean."

It was the truth. No matter how many people I surrounded myself with, none of them wanted to listen. I didn't blame them, either. Growing up how we did, you become self-centered. The world is _your_ world, and everyone else is there to make _you_ happy. It never bothered me before, though, because I never experienced anything else. But that night, Matt revealed the art of listening to me. I finally comprehended the definition of 'conversation.'

When I was young, I used to believe small talk meant conversing. Now I know small talk is nothing more than a pitiful attempt to connect to another person. Most of the time, it's forced conversation that neither participant wants to deal with, but has no choice. Either that, or the two are just so uncomfortable with each other that their relationship never gets past the shallow waters. At this point, I wanted to believe Matt and I were slowly wading to the deep end.

"Fuck," he suddenly murmured as his phone buzzed on his lap. Across the screen flashed the name 'Kyle.' "Hey what's up?...Sweet, me too, but, uh, I can't talk right now. I'll call you later tonight, okay? Yeah, bye."

He hung up and glanced towards me. "I've been seeing this guy for a few weeks."

The words stung. Was I just another person he fucked around with? He seemed so drawn to everyone he spoke to and had this way to make every feel loved. Had I just fallen for his act? The unusual, paranoid thoughts mustered through my mind, stirring into this uncomfortable self-doubt that I never faced before. But I maintained my composure. That's one thing I can thank my father for; my ability to mask any emotions stems from him.

"Oh." I didn't know how to respond. How could you when faced with such a strange, difficult situation? I decided not to allow myself to feel any jealousy or anger. I had a girlfriend and he had another guy. Probably not a boyfriend, but he's been _seeing_ him for a while. We were on the same playing field. Besides, I was stoned and too relaxed to fester in my contempt.

"Yeah he's cool."

For the first time since I met Matt, the silence became unbearable. I stood up, dusting the sand from my hair and pants. "I think I'm going to go back."

"Wait, Light. It's not like that. Kyle's fun, but I don't have feelings for him. And I sure as fuck don't want to be in a relationship with him."

I turned, my voice a bit too calm as the words rushed from my mouth before I could stop them. "Then what do you want with me, Matt?"

"I think the better question is what do you want with me?"

I couldn't come up with an answer, which only frustrated me more. "I don't know. It doesn't matter, but let's just go, alright?"

"Light, what do you want with me?"

"Leave it alone, Matt."

He stood up beside me, just staring at me with his hands shoved in his vest. "Sorry," he mumbled through the cigarette dangling between his lips. "Yeah, we can head out. Wanna take the subway?"

I rarely took the subway, but I shrugged and followed him to the station located a few blocks away. I couldn't bring myself to say anything to him; the confrontation irked me. What did I want with Matt? The question gnawed at me, tearing and prodding at me. What did I want in general? I strayed from my life into some wild fantasy, a fantasy I couldn't control, dripping with lust and cravings.

Matt hoped down the stairs into the dingy yellow lights of the subway station below. I watched for a moment, suddenly hesitant to make the descent. But, he turned around and through his orange goggles, I caught a glimmer of something in his eyes. Although I couldn't recognize it at first, I started down the steps until I was next to him. He smiled at me and led me to he turnstiles.

Our fingers touched as he handed me his Metrocard. For a moment, we gazed at each other, and finally I followed him. Maybe living in a fantasy wasn't such a bad thing.


	10. Use

**A/N: **I just want to thank everyone for their reviews, especially HarryPotterMangaGleek (my wonderful long time reader), hudgens77, and xSerenityinChaosx. Thanks guys! You make my day =D

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><p>Matt waved good-bye as the subway doors closed between us. We watched each other as the train jolted forward and crawled into the dark tunnel. I sighed and sunk into the cold plastic chairs. Too much happened the past few days; so much that I completely forgot to do my homework. Another sleepless night awaited me. Somehow, it didn't bother me. Usually I popped a few of my sister's Aderol pills if the stress became overwhelming. Besides, it helped me focus.<p>

I walked out of the subway station, feeling a bit more free. Liberated from what, I can't necessarily tell you, but I could breathe again. Matt's smile lingered in my thoughts as I nodded towards my doorman and headed for the elevator. Sure he extracted me from a life I felt so comfortable in, but I discovered happiness because of it. Maybe he liberated me from my chains of responsibility as a Yagami, or maybe he just allowed me to accept myself. Whatever it was, he drew me farther down into a fiery pit that became my heaven. So what if I started using? So what if I had feelings for a boy? My family had to accept me for who I was; they were my family, after all.

The confidence vanished as soon as I stepped into the apartment. My father greeted me with a scowl plastered upon his face. "Where were you, Light?"

"With Misa at a photoshoot."

"It's nine o'clock."

"It was a late photoshoot."

He knew I was lying. I could see the doubt lingering in his eyes. What could he do, though? I began to abandon everything I ever felt close to; he would only speed up the process. At least, that's what I told myself. I thought I would be okay if he snatched all my luxuries back. I really convinced myself I would be.

I leaned against the marble walls, studying him carefully. "I've got a lot of work to do," I finally said, sliding out of my shoes.

Just as I tried to pass him, though, his broad shoulder cut me off. My heart raced in my chest as a calloused hand grabbed the back of my neck, a normal tactic when he was furious. I cringed as his index finger dug into my skin. "Don't you ever let me catch you drinking in my house until your twenty-one again. You got it?"

"Yes."

He let go, pushing me forward. I stumbled and caught myself, trying to calm my racing heart. Hypocritical asshole. I could come home smashed and he wouldn't give me a second glance, but if I drink under his roof, all Hell suddenly breaks loose. I'm sure he told my mother, which meant I would have to deal with concerned glances and watery eyes. She'd tell me I'm growing up to fast, or something along those lines.

But I found myself indifferent. I discovered a world far beyond theirs, and I adored it. There were no restrictions and rules; I could finally slip comfortably into my own skin. If they were good parents, they would have accepted me. Not everyone's perfect, though. Especially not politicians.

"And Light?"

I wheeled around, facing my father again. His scowl contorted into a forced smile, which frightened me more. "Don't forget to dump your garbage."

"Yes sir."

I crawled under the covers in my bed. Just as I started to drift off to sleep, someone knocked at my bedroom door. I stumbled over and opened it, scowling at the intruder: My father, with a still forced grin lingering across his lips.

"You have a visitor."

Sure, it was only ten, but I couldn't fathom why someone decided to drop by at this time on a school night. I peered down the corridor, catching a glimpse of shaggy black hair and a wrinkled white long sleeve shirt. I approached L, still puzzled by his sudden appearance. How had he even obtained my address?

"L?"

He gazed at me with drooping eyes. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Light. I just need to speak with you."

"About what? Can't it wait until tomorrow?" I didn't intend for the statement to be so rude, but exhaustion pounded at me, reminding me over and over of my comfortable bed waiting in my room.

"I suppose so," he said as he turned toward the door.

"Wait, I'm sorry," I grabbed his wrist. He stared at my hand, which lingered for a moment. Finally, I retreated, ignoring my burning cheeks. "Want to go to my room? I guess it's a bit more private there."

I lounged on my bed as he propped up on my computer chair, resting his chin between his knees. Even for a skeleton, L's figure was beautiful. The bones in his spine jutted through his shirt, trailing down his back, where I caught a peak of creamy, bear skin right above his pants. I swallowed; I still had to repress the new vigor for finally discovering my sexual identity, even as his thin fingers scratched the crevice between his firm collar bones.

My eyes wandered up to his, meeting them for a moment. I averted his gaze, wondering how long he was watching me watch him.

"I'm not sure if it's my place to inform you of such information, but Matt isn't the type of person who remains monogamous. In fact, he thrives on making others fall in love with him, then dropping them. I like you, Light. I think that you're a good person, and I don't want you to fall too deep. Matt's world strays far from the world your used to; he's nothing like Misa and I hope you don't expect him to be."

The information seemed too abrupt, too unnatural. I narrowed my eyes, leaning back against the wall. Somehow, I couldn't bring myself to accept the notion that Matt was using me. How could I let anyone use me?

"Why do you think I'll fall too deep? Maybe I'm using him, as well."

"Light, I'm very observant. In fact, I'm studying the law and planning on becoming a detective. If you claim that you're okay with Matt using you, that makes you a liar. Whether you realize it or not you and him will never work. In fact, Matt will never work with anyone."

"Because of Chris?"

The name-drop caught L's attention. For a moment, he sat in silence, contemplating how to approach the topic. But I knew what he would say already. He would claim Matt's obvious hatred towards monogamy stemmed from something in Matt's past, but Chris was the icing on the cake. I already established the idea before he even showed up. He surprised me, though. That's one thing I can truly say about L; he's unpredictable.

"Yes. After we found Matt, he was a complete wreck."

"Wait-what do you mean you found Matt?"

L's eyes flickered towards me. "He didn't tell you? Well, then maybe I shouldn't. It doesn't pertain to why I'm here, anyway. You should re-think your relationship with Matt. He's one of my best friends, but speaking as someone who knows him too well, you'll only get hurt."

I tried to decipher how I felt logically, but I came to discover emotions reign over rationality and suddenly I was caught in a fury frenzy, torn between my feelings for Matt and the truth. L seemed too patient with the idea, but then again his stoic face rarely showed anything. We winded up arguing, and I claimed I never even looked at Matt that way. He just laughed; apparently he watched it all the time. Matt's seduces someone, fucks them, wraps them around his finger, then tosses them. And why would I be different?

The notion stung a bit. Why would I be different? Because I'm Light Yagami and my father, Soichiro Yagami, ran a campaign to prevent gay marriage in New York? I lived my entire life convinced I was unique and privileged. And my father, although not the easiest man to get along with, would always stick by my side. How would he feel when he found out the truth? Would it all be worth it for someone who could be using me?

I maintained my composure, as much as I wanted to grab tufts of my hair and yank it from my head. "I appreciate the sentiment, L, but I think I can handle myself. If Matt is that type of person, it doesn't matter much to me because I don't actually have feelings for him."

"Is that why you had sex with him?"

"No." My fingers trembled, unable to comprehend the notion that Matt revealed our dirty little secret. But, L was correct; I _didn't_ know Matt. For all I knew, he was using me for sex...or worse; to get to my father.

I probably should have mentioned my father's occupation before. I grew up in a household where the phrase, "God hates fags" wasn't used lightly. Although my parents aren't the religious type, they do believe in God and hold a conservative view of the world. Abortion, stem cell research, gay marriage, cutting the taxes for the poor: all shit my parents hate. They constantly argue about it, not amongst themselves, but to others. The notion that discussing politics in social situations is inappropriate is a foreign concept to them. In fact, they encouraged political debate (and managed to sprinkle their religious views in there, as well).

"I think you should go," I finally said. "I have a lot to think about."

"Alright," L swayed as he stood up before he headed towards the door. "I'm sorry I had to be the one to tell you, Light. I rarely intervene, but I like you. You don't deserve to get hurt."

I glanced up towards him, suppressing the urge to demand him to leave again. He lingered by the door for a moment before he stepped back into the room. I should have known he had more to say. "Did you finish your half of the science project?"

"Oh shit," i nearly jumped out of the bed. "I forgot." And I never forget.

"Do you need help?" L offered.

I glanced towards him before shrugging, "Yeah, thanks. That would be awesome."

I slid down over the bed and he sat down next to me, crouching on the bed. We discussed the project for a little while. I found myself leaning towards him, breathing in the familiar scent that clutched to his shirt the first night. His long fingers traced a line in the text book as he read it out loud and, suddenly, my fingers grazed against his. His stoic gaze settled on me before he pulled his hand away.

"How could this addition effect the out come?" he asked.

The problem was simple and in any other state of mind, I would have answered him in a heart beat. My emotions reeled through my body, tossing me into an uncomfortable state of anger and fragility. So, I wrapped my arm around his wrist and drew him close to me. He stared at me with a puzzled expression planted on his face. Before he could say anything, I pressed my lips against his. And he kissed me back, but only for a moment.

"I think I should go," he pulled away.

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's not that I didn't enjoy it," he assured me. "However, you're displacing your feelings towards Matt onto me. I'm sure you're going through a confusing period, Light. Matt has the ability to get under people's skin, but please don't endeavor to use me. Instead, discuss this with Matt."

I blushed, suddenly aware of how big and gray his eyes were. But, he was right. I succumbed to my emotions and allowed them to carry me into a desperate state. All the knowledge in the world couldn't save me from the undeniable desire I felt towards both Matt and L. I hated it, but loved it at the same time. L's quirky, odd ways drew me in, but Matt had something about him. The idea that he only fucked me and used me didn't line up, not with how he treated me. I decided L might be right, but I would approach the situation with an unbiased opinion and ask Matt.

"That's probably the best idea. I'll see you in class tomorrow, then?"

"Yeah," L muttered before leaving the room. His taste still lingered on my lips, but oddly, it only fueled my desires for Matt. I jumped from my bed, checked out my reflection, and headed out the door.

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><p>I called Matt when the taxi pulled up to his apartment downtown. "Hey," he picked up after the second ring.<p>

"I'm outside your place. Can we talk?"

I sat down on the apartment's stoop and waited a few minutes. The door opened and Matt slouched out, gripping his elbows with his hands. He greeted me with a small smile and took the seat next to me. "You're up a little late," he laughed. "You got class tomorrow, right?"

"I kissed L." The words blurted from my mouth before I realized what I said. Matt's eyes widened, then narrowed. For a long time, we sat on the steps without uttering a word to each other. When I glanced towards him, he was still watching me.

Finally, he spoke. "Alright...well, why?"

The question gnawed at me. Or maybe it was his monotonous tone and his unfazed expression. Did I really mean that little to him? I wanted to get up and escape, break the connection he and I created that night, but I held my ground. I went to Matt's for a purpose and I refused to let my emotions consume me. So, I faced him with a blank expression and simply said, "Because I wanted to."

"Oh." His gaze faltered and suddenly, he started to stare at his hands. "Is that it?"

"No. He told me that you use people for sex."

His gaze flickered towards me again; his eyes rested on mine. Before he could respond, though, I found the words pouring from my mouth again. "But I could care less. You showed me a part of myself that I've been suppressing my whole life. The night I met you, you pulled a veil off my head and I want more. I can't deny who I am, anymore, Matt, and with you, I feel comfortable in my own skin. I can actually admit that I'm..."

My tongue suddenly fell limp in my mouth.

"Gay?" he finished the sentence for me.

"Yeah." My cheeks burned again.

"So, what do you want with me, Light?"

"You're a bit of a hedonist, aren't you?"

A large grin ran across his lips. His dull eyes suddenly sparked and glimmered under the bathing street lamp lights. "Aren't we all?"

With that, he cupped his hand under my chin and pulled my lips close to his. He kissed my top lip gently, then the bottom lip. His fingers traced down the back of my neck, sending tingling waves shooting down my spine to my toes. Then, he pressed his lips into mine, tangling his fingers in my hair. Doubt rambled through my thoughts, until his tongue ran across the back of my top teeth, an untouched area, completely raw and sensitive. He wrapped his free arm around my chest as I sank into him. Pleasure rushed through me and I realized that it didn't matter if he was using me, because, even if I did have feelings for him, I was using him, as well.

And I told him that. He stared at me for a moment, then asked, "Why don't you break up with Misa, Light? She's a sweetheart. She doesn't deserve this."

"What?"

"I ended things with Kyle. Break up with Misa, Light. For all our sakes."

"How would you benefit from that?"

Instead of answering, he kissed me again, pressing his body into mine. His teeth slid against my tongue and he sank them into my flesh. A soft moan erupted from my throat as his tongue slid into my mouth and ran along my own. His fingers wandered down my torso, stopping right at my belt line. He suddenly pulled away, leaving me in an intoxicated state of pain and desire.

He intertwined his fingers into mine. "Come upstairs," he murmured.

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><p><strong>AN: **Well, Light's just a confused mess! Will he ever figure out exactly what he wants? Will a romance ever spark between him and Matt? Will something else happen with him and L? Will he ever break up with Misa? Will these questions ever end! Yes. They will.

Anyway, I can put a nice little **lemon** scene in the next chapter if you guys want. Let me know!

Thanks for reading (and reviewing-of course).


	11. Energy

**A/N:** Hey guys! It's (obviously) been a while since I've wrote this story, so the voice might sound a bit different. I hope it's not too distracting. Also, this chapter is a bit lemon-y, so this is just a warning!  
>Read, review, and enjoy!<p>

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><p>I don't really feel like talking about what happened next. It's bad memories, and I just want to get a bit messed up before I talk about it. But there's just a bunch of gruff guys around me, all who have kicked me off the remaining benches. The old Light would've cared about leaning against the dirty brick wall. He would've cared about the stench of ass and body odor in the air. I'm not really sure where he went, that better part of me.<p>

The guy who originally banned me from the bench is watching me from the corner of his eye. I want to tell him to back off, to throw a glare back at him, but I'm running low on energy. Plus my knuckles are starting to ache. The adrenaline's worn off. If I could just get something, anything, to wake me up a bit, the night would go by much faster. And maybe I wouldn't have to worry about bail.

He's watching me, so I slump against the wall. Alright, I want to think about Matt, now. It will help. It's better than thinking about the guy's beady eyes and the sweat dripping down his forehead.

He wore these two different socks underneath his jeans. After he led me back upstairs, with his hand in mine, he slouched into his couch and brought one knee up against his chest. He slipped one shoe off, then the other. His pant leg slid up, revealing one tall orange and yellow stripped sock. The other was just a bright blue ankle sock. His long fingers ran against the fabric as he smoothed his jeans down.

I wanted him, but I wanted to watch him more. The way his fingers glided against the fabric on his jeans, and how his red hair brushed against the side of his neck whenever the fan blew in his direction; I adored it all. I sat down on the chair across from him, trying to figure out what to say. When his eyes flickered up toward me and that smile danced across his lips, my fingers gripped the arms of the chair. My nails scratched against the fabric.

He stood up and took a few steps toward me. Then, too slowly, he knelt and placed his hands on my hands. He tilted his head, parting his lips. I leaned in and met them with my own. His fingers dug into the top of my hand as he kissed me back. He tasted like cigarettes, as he always did.

It didn't take long for him to remove my shirt, then his own. He straddled me and pressed his bare chest against my own. His skin was sticky with sweat. It felt so warm against me, so I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him closer. His hands were already wandering, searching, and when they found what they were looking for, my fingers trembled against the small of his back. Just before he undid the zipper on my pants, he pulled away. His goggles slipped from the red nest on his head and drooped over his forehead. I pulled them down until they hung like a necklace.

He opened his mouth to say something. I wanted to say something, too, to break the silence. Without the self-doubt wracking my brain I felt vulnerable. Matt knew who I was before I did, and a part of me resented it. And I figured if I said something, anything, I would ease the fear. One of his hands rested on my torso, right above my heart. He ran his hand up my neck, then cupped my cheek. The stench of cigarettes no longer bothered me. In fact, I sort of liked it. But the unspoken words still sat in my mouth. My tongue felt like it was swelling up.

"Matt?"

"Yeah?" He cocked his head. His lips were still parted and I couldn't help but notice the small chip on one of his teeth. I wished he would smile.

He didn't pressure me to say anything else. He just curled up against me, laying soft kisses on my lips and cheek as I remained frozen in the chair. My stomach twisted, my throat scratched, and I couldn't tell if I would be able to talk or not. Yet, he still kissed me, never too eagerly, like he sensed my tension. Suddenly I wanted to tell him all about my father. Confess about those times I went to church and listened to him preach afterward about how strong and true heterosexual love was. How I believed him. If I had known, if I had been more self-aware, it probably would have been easier. Or a lot more difficult.

"Give me a sec," Matt climbed off me. His lean figure bent over the coffee table as he poured white powder from a small bag. He fiddled with it, cutting it with a credit card, until there were two straight lines. He looked at me. "Want some?"

I shrugged and moved next to him. He was twisting a twenty dollar bill when my legs grazed against his. It didn't bother him as he kept tightening it. He glanced at me before he placed one side by the end of the white line and the other by his nose. In an instant, he snorted the powder, scratched his nose, and leaned his face up toward me. His free hand rummaged around my thigh. A playful smile ran across his lips.

I wish I had hesitated before I followed his lead, I wish I had actually thought. But the intoxicating scent of the lavender candle burning in the corner of his room and the gentle hum of the fan urged me to try something new, to get closer to him. He instructed me how to do it right, how to make sure I got the full effect. I bent over the second line. My feet were shaking, so he put one hand on my ankle as a sort of reassurance. It worked.

It wasn't like anything I tried before. I can't really explain the sensation. Consciously, I didn't feel messed up. I wasn't twitching, I wasn't viewing the world in another way, nothing felt extraordinarily great. There was just a ton of energy pounding through my body. Matt yanked his goggles off and tossed them behind him. A red glaze coated his eyes.

"Come, come," he purred, grabbing my hands. "I want you, Light. I can't stop thinking about you. I think you're gonna drive me crazy one day. Absolutely nuts."

I didn't really get what he meant as he guided me back to the couch and pushed me against the cushions. He pressed his lips against my neck. "I want you to, though," he muttered between each touch. His teeth grazed my skin and shivers ran down my spine. He let me explore his body for a long time, running my hands against his skin. I trailed my fingers along each vertebrae on his spine. My fingers began to tremble, I mean shake really violently. He sort of laughed and told me it happened sometimes. He pushed his lips against mine and asked me to make love to him.

I never used the words "make love" when referring to sex. It's such a strange phrase for such a physical action. It made sex too touchy-feely, especially with Misa. She liked to call it making love, I guess because she thought we were in love. But when Matt asked me to, it didn't bother me. No, I didn't love him. I don't know if I can ever actually love someone, but I felt good with him. Like I belonged with him, at least at that moment in time.

"Ow, shit," he suddenly growled. My fingers were digging into the small of his back.

"Sorry." The word shot out of my mouth. He narrowed his eyes and swiveled to catch a glimpse of his back. A red strip of skin ripped through his back. I had scratched his skin raw. I went to put my hand on it, and I wanted to apologize again, but he just hushed me and climbed back on top of me.

He kept running his hands all over me. I squirmed. My heart raced. My fingers yanked at his hair as he lay kisses on my jaw line. When his fingers grazed against the brim of my boxers, I shuttered. The pounding escalated and I suddenly realized I was panting.

When Matt's eyes flickered up to me, he stopped and tilted his head. "You alright?" he placed another kiss on my collar bone.

"Yeah why?"

We didn't speak as he stripped his pants and boxers off. We didn't speak when I pushed him to the floor. We didn't speak when I positioned myself behind him and clutched his hips. And we didn't speak as sweat dribbled down the vertebrae jutting from his back. Then he huffed my name and turned to face me, his bloodshot eyes locking on my own. I hate to say this, to even think about it and admit it, but I could suddenly hear my father's preaching words echoing in my head.

"God hates fags."

The room was suddenly spinning. I jolted away from Matt and crumpled into the edge of the couch. My heart punched my chest and I realized I was going to throw up. He knelt in front of my, sweat clinging to his neck and torso, and I realized I was covered in it. "Light, calm down, it's fine. You're going to be fine, Light, relax. Just breathe. Just breathe."

He tried to press his lips against mine, but my father screamed in my head. I pushed Matt away and scrambled toward his bathroom. I fell to my knees in front of his toilet, but nothing happened. I had to do something, anything, to stop the room from spinning. His voice from the doorway made me jump "Light, it's okay. This happens sometimes. It's overwhelming, alright, just calm down."

"Calm down?" I snapped, my fingers trembling. "Get out of my way."

There must have been something, anything I could do. He grabbed my hands, but I pushed him off. He was persistent, yanking at me. I grabbed my clothing, trying to pull them on. I couldn't believe that it was easy enough as taking a deep breath. His grip tightened around my wrist and I turned around to tell him to fuck off, but instead he wrestled the clothes from my hands and pushed me onto the couch.

"Alright, Light," he growled. "You need to sit the fuck down and relax. Now."

My chest heaved as he slowly pulled my boxers back onto me. "You good?" he asked.

"Yeah." But my fingers were still trembling and the desire to run somewhere, anywhere overwhelmed me. He curled onto the couch next to me. The lavender candle still burned in the corner, but I didn't want to smell it anymore. I leaned my head back as his fingers traced my arm.

"What the fuck Light?" he breathed, resting his palm on my forearm.

"I-I just. I want to leave."

He crossed his arms and sighed. "Why? Am I not good enough for you?" His eyes narrowed.

"No." Every word I spoke spat from my lips. "It's just, I can't. I don't fucking know. It's like-fuck Matt, I don't fucking know. Why the fuck are you being such a goddamn ass?"

I was standing up, pacing. My fingers ran through my hair. Strands grazed against my cheek and each time I pushed them away, they fell again. Matt's eyes just followed as I continued to pace. He was used to it, I guess, the overwhelming urge to lash out. He knew when to act and when to relax, even though his eyes burned red.

"Light," his voice was unnaturally calm. I wanted to shout at him more, to get him to yell until the room shook. "Haven't you ever been happy?"

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Fuck you."

I panted when I reached the other side of the room. He stood up and walked toward me. God hates fags, I reminded myself over and over. My father had done a damn good job imprinting. But as Matt approached me, I found myself wondering if there was a God. He reached his hands toward me and wrapped his arms around my hips. I squirmed a bit, but the cigarette stench from his lips stopped me.

"Why are you so freaked out?" he asked. "What are you thinking?"

"About my father."

"That's kind of weird," he narrowed his eyes.

"You know who my father is, don't you?"

Matt shrugged, but he didn't deny it. It took a while before my racing heart finally calmed down. The overwhelming energy still pulsed through me, but the anxiety died. He began to kiss me again, this time more feverishly than before. He had waited, after all. And he had the patience of a goddamn saint to get what he wanted. It irritated me, gnawed at me.

We crumpled to the floor together. I don't know how much time had passed but my legs ached and my fingers were still shaking a bit. He crawled against me, nestling his nose into my chest. "I don't know why I'm so fucking tired," he chuckled between breaths. "I'm gonna get some more."

He scrambled up and walked toward the coffee table. He retrieved a small baggy from one of the drawers. "Want?" he asked without looking up from his task.

I glanced around Matt's flat. Beside the two doors, one leading to his bedroom, and the other to his bathroom, everything was cluttered into the small space. His living area was crowded with furniture and clothing was strewn across the room. A small table sat in his kitchen area with a half finished glass of milk perched on the top next to a shot glass and an empty bottle of whiskey. There were photographs covering the walls, like a wallpaper of memories. There was one by the television where L and Mello were straddling a green bench in the dark, both wearing captains hats and no shirts. Mello was beaming, but L seemed to be a bit more focused on something invisible on the floor. I looked back at Matt.

He was hunched over the coffee table, tightening the bill rolled between his fingers. "Let's just relax, alright?" I said.

"Huh?"

"I don't know, let's just sit and watch TV or something. I don't know what the hell people do after this."

"I do," he raised his eyebrow with a playful smirk planted on his lips. "If you don't want any, fine."

When he finished, I was curled on the couch flipping through the channels. He curled against me, nestling his chin on my shoulder. "I like you, Light," he smirked. My stomach dropped.

"I-thanks."

"You're welcome." And he jumped up and headed to the bathroom. "I'm taking a shower."

My eyes felt heavy. I wanted to stay awake all night with him. I knew what would help me do that, but the better half of me, a half which I think I might have accidentally maybe killed off, reminded me I had school the next day. School, and homework. I could just fall asleep, but he wouldn't sleep with me. How the hell could I fall asleep alone in an unfamiliar flat, while he pranced around, and I still trembled? I sighed and headed to the coffee table, where a perfect white line sat, waiting to help wake me up.


	12. Cold

**A/N:** Hi guys! Long time no post! So-this will be a fun little experiment for me. I'm going to work on dialogue, because I'm pretty bad at it. Sorry if this is boring. Okay...we'll see how it turns out.

Also, as per lilflyingApple's request, I've added a bit more interaction between Light and L (because, seriously, who doesn't love those two?). So read, review, and enjoy!

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><p>A finger prodded my forehead and my eyes flew open. Sunlight poured into my vision, digging into my skull until it forced my eyes closed again. Another poke. I groaned in response, rolling over in the comforter, pressing my lips against the pillow. I couldn't figure out why my mom was attempting to wake up by poking me. Cold fingers slipped around my neck, running up to my ear lobe. It definitely wasn't my mom. I sat up, greeted by the familiar green room and Matt's tilted face.<p>

"I think you're late for school."

"What?"

"It's ten."

"What!?" I tossed the comforter off, nearly toppling out of the bed. I grabbed my boxers, folded next to the night table, and yanked them on. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

Matt shrugged, running his fingers through his red hair. "I don't know. It's not really _my_ responsibility. You're lucky I'm such a morning person." He winked at me with a puffy eye. "Do you wanna get breakfast or something? I'm craving eggs. Big, fluffy, yellow eggs."

I checked my reflection, smoothing my hair onto my forehead. It stuck up again as soon as I let go. "What other fucking color would they be?"

"Huh?" Matt was reaching for the mug on the table, half empty with muddy coffee, and the two pills sitting next to it.

"What other color would eggs be? And where's my fucking shirt?" I tossed through a pile of clothes lying next to the bed, shifting through the patterned pastel button downs, the neutral jeans, the corduroys, and neon boxer briefs. I felt like I was going through a crayola box and my eyes were so watery that the color vomit started to blur together.

"Watch your mouth," Matt laughed. "So yes, eggs?"

"No, Matt, I have school."

"Right. But you already missed some anyway. Won't they just know you cut?"

"Where is my shirt?"

"Did you look under the bed?"

My head snapped around. The mattress was sitting on the floor. Matt crossed his legs and smiled. "Want a cigarette?" he asked.

"Matt."

"What?"

"MY SHIRT."

"Oh, you put it in the bathroom, right?"

"Fucker," I mumbled and made for the bathroom. My button down white shirt dangled from the door. The sleeve sat on the sink counter, not even an inch from a blob of blue toothpaste. I shuttered as I grabbed it and tossed it on, buttoning from the bottom up.

"You missed a button." Matt was leaning against the door frame, holding the yellow mug in one hand and the pills in the other.

"You're kidding me." He wasn't. I never missed a button. I rested my palms on the sink counter and hung my head. The blue goop of toothpaste seemed to wiggle as I hiccuped a sigh.

Matt placed his mug next to my hand and extended his palm. "It's Advil."

"I don't have a headache."

"Oh? I always do," he laughed and took the second pill. "Do you want me to button your shirt?"

"I'm perfectly capable of buttoning my own goddamn shirt."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Eggs?" Matt cocked his head, leaning against the frame. He had this smile on his face, barely showing any teeth, and a dimple right underneath his lips. His cheeks were flushed like I had never seen. Or cared to notice. Whatever. The red blotches on his porcelain skin reminded me of how my mother used to pinch the back of my hand as a child whenever I tried to reach for the television remote.

I sighed. "Fine. Eggs."

"You going to finish buttoning?"

His fingers brushed against mine. His nails were so clean, down to the cuticle. I wanted to ask him if he got a manicure, but instead I rested my head against his chest and began to laugh. "I don't think I should wear my uniform if we're getting breakfast."

"Want to borrow a shirt?"

"As long as it's not yellow. Or furry."

"We'll see."

A plain white t-shirt, mismatched socks, and ten minutes later, Matt shut his apartment door behind us. He banged it against the frame until, with a final thud, it closed. We headed down the stairs, each foot pounding against the steps like a drum until I realized that, yes, I did have a headache. I scrunched my nose as he pushed in front of me and held the door open. The sun was blinding and I reached for the pair of sunglasses I always had stashed into my jacket pocket. But, of course, I was wearing Matt's navy coat with the fur hood, not my grey pea-coat because why would I have made the day any easier for myself? I shielded my eyes and followed him down the steps and across the street.

"So," Matt hopped onto the sidewalk, dodging a woman pushing a baby stroller. "There's this place a few blocks away that makes pretty good eggs benedict. I hate hollandaise sauce, but you look like you enjoy it."

"What?"

"Eggs benedict."

"I know, but what do you mean I look like-"

He laughed, grabbing my hand. "I'm joking." His skin was warm, much warmer than the wind biting at my neck and the cotton cocoon his jacket pocket offered. But I pulled my hand away and stuck it in the pocket. He didn't seem to notice as we turned the corner.

"God, I think my head is splitting open," I huffed. "Do they have good coffee?"

"Sure they do. From Brazil. Or Costa Rica. I don't remember, it's from one of those South American country. Imported, _and_ freshly ground. Better than the shit I was drinking this morning."

"Then why drink it?"

Matt stopped and turned on his heel. His pointed nose was beginning to turn red. I wondered if his face was as warm as his hands. "You know, that's a really good question. And I don't have a good answer." We continued our trek.

We passed a balding man walking his bulldog. He was dressed in a little blue coat with yellow stripes. The dog, not the man. The thing waddled on, and I turned to watch as it sniffed a lone tree sprouting up from its puddle of dirt. The man had a rainbow flag ironed onto the left shoulder of his denim jacket. He puffed his chest out, clenching his wide jaw, as his dog with the stupid jacket lifted its leg to piss on the tree trunk.

My hand trembled as I reached for Matt's, and I swear to God that bastard chuckled as our fingers locked.

"You know, three years ago, I would have been madly in love with you."

"What?" I glanced to see if he was joking. As soon as we made eye contact, my hand retreated back into my jacket pocket.

Matt didn't seem to notice a smile crossed his lips. "It's that boyish charm and your big eyelashes."

"What?"

"The way you shake your hips."

I guess my mouth was probably dangling open because Matt was laughing again. "Sorry," he finally choked out. "You squirm. Like a worm. Relax, alright?"

That should have been my first clue. Just as we reached the small bistro, Matt wrapped his arms around my hips and kissed me. His cheeks were so warm against the wind. I wanted to curl up against him, to lock ourselves far from the cold, from the rays of the deceitful sun, and escape back into the world far beyond, the better half of the universe. I craved something that Matt could give me. That, really, too many people could give me, but I guess the ache in my head was reminding me just how early it was, even if I was late. After he pulled away, with a smile still on his face, and his request for me to relax still echoing fresh in my mind, I should have picked up my second clue. I smiled back at him.

* * *

><p>Around four, the cab dropped me off in front of L's apartment. He had picked up an extra copy of the homework. The doorman made me wait in the glass room as he rang up to the penthouse. After a mumbled voice answered the doorman's request, he buzzed me into the grand lobby again. I stopped in front of the giant statue. It's eyes were crooked.<p>

Upstairs, L greeted me by the elevator, his posture slumped so far forward that I feared he would topple over. His body seemed to sway as I stepped into his hallway. "Hi," he greeted me, walking toward his room as the elevator binged and closed behind me.

"L?"

He glanced at me from over his shoulder. His skin was pale, much paler than usual. A bead of sweat dangled by his hairline, clutching at a black strand. It trembled and finally released its grip. It rolled down his forehead and sat upon his brow. And for whatever reason, which I still cannot fucking fathom, I reached out and wiped it off. His skin felt so clammy against my hand, so I rested my cool palm on his cheek. He grabbed my wrist and pulled my and from his face.

"Do you have a fever?"

"You missed an interesting lesson in biology today." He was still holding my wrist. "We talked about the different parts of a plant cell, although it was much more entertaining when Misa Amane confronted me after class and demanded I tell her where you were."

"L, you're burning up."

"See, I wasn't aware that Misa knew we spoke. Did you happen to tell her? Or is there some gossip about us floating through the grapevine? I don't think people gossip about me often. I wonder what they're saying."

"Did you go to school with this fever? Jesus, L."

He seemed to be speaking to someone over my shoulder. His eyes widened as the pace of his words quickened. "I'm thinking she's aware that you and Matt are close, and probably knows that Matt and I are friends through Facebook, or something. We do have some pictures together, after all, although..."

"L!"

"What?"

"You need to lie down. I'll get you soup or something. Do you have soup?"

"I'd much rather some sugar cookies."

"Do you have soup?"

"Somewhere."

"Where?"

"Possibly the pantry. There are sugar cookies on top of the fridge."

His room was as clean as ever. There was a faint stench of bleach, so I opened the window a crack as he curled into his bed.

"Why did you go to school?" I asked.

"Why didn't you?"

Thankfully he didn't wait for an answer. He propped himself up with his elbows and slid his nightstand open. A row of pencils and pens were aligned next to a pad of paper with only the words "Dreams" written on the top. His fingers pawed at an empty space in the corner, and he retreated, sighing. "You don't by any chance have some blow on you?"

I shook my head. "Is that why you're sick? Withdrawal?"

"I appreciate your concern, but I'm not an addict, Light. And if I was, I certainly would not feel this horrible. Coke withdrawal isn't too bad."

"Well then, why did you go to school with a fever?"

He turned his gaze toward me. The bags under his eyes seemed to grow heavier by the moment, and I suddenly remembered the soup I had promised him. "I'll be right back." The knot in my stomach unraveled as I made my way down his hallway.

The last few words Matt had said before we parted were 'Let me see you again. Tonight.' And I wanted to see him, I wanted to see him and taste the bitter chalk on my tongue. I knew, though, that I had priorities, and if I didn't maintain them, my father would notice. The last thing I wanted was my father to question what I was doing on my spare time. In the kitchen, I rifled through one of the two pantries. Cans of chicken noodle soup were lined on the top shelf. I grabbed one and a pot hanging above the island, then began to heat up L's soup. I rubbed my thumb against my index finger, which had wiped the sweat from L's brow only a few minutes before.

When I finished preparing L's soup, I went back to his room only to find him sitting on the fire escape outside of his window. He had his knees pressed against his chest and the wind was pawing at his uniform shirt. His hair clung to the sweat on the back of his neck. Each strand melded into the next, creating thick wires running across his skin. I set his soup on his desk, fingering the bottom button of my own uniform.

"Your soup," I said as I approached the open window. A gust of wind rushed into the room, rustling the thin sheets bunched on his bed. For a moment, it almost looked like another person was lying there. I wiped my eyes and stuck my head out the window. The cold seized my nose and ears, biting down on them, but L seemed entranced with the view of rooftops and scattered trees. Another gust of wind knocked against my cheek.

"Come inside. Your soup's going to get cold.

He finally looked at me. His lips were turning blue, yet a layer of sweat still sat on his skin. "It feels good out here."

"You're going to make your fever so much worse. Can you just come inside!?"

"Why don't you come outside?" he chuckled.

"I'm outside."

"Are you afraid of heights?"

"I _am_ outside!"

"No. You're sticking your head out a window. You're too afraid to climb on the balcony. Maybe because of the cold, or the wind, or the height, but something is keeping you off this balcony. I would like to know what it is."

"What's keeping me off this balcony?"

"Yes."

"Because it's fucking COLD, L, can you come inside? I made you _soup_."

But he didn't budge. I retreated back into the room, grabbed the thin blanket on his bed, and scooped it around his shoulders. I could feel him shivering, fighting the cold, fighting the fever. Fighting me, and I couldn't figure out what I had done to get him so goddamn worked up that he refused to eat the soup I made for him or come back inside.

I kept my arms around him, inching him towards his room. He shivered as another gust of wind pulled at the blanket, and I hugged him against my chest to keep the sheet (and him) from flying off. By the time the wind cooled, he had pressed his body against the window frame so I couldn't pull him back anymore.

I climbed onto the balcony, holding his shaking body against my own.

"See. It's not bad," he laughed. "I come out here to think."

"About what?"

"What is there not to think about?"

We sat without speaking for a while. The sound of a doormen whistling for a cab obstructed our silence. The doorman must have been cold standing at the edge of the curb, holding his arm out with the silver whistle dangling from his lips. Maybe he had a nice pair of white gloves that his wife just bought for him that he wanted to show off, so he held his hand higher as he blew his whistle again. But all I could see was the fire escape running down into the alley below, dropping off at a pile of wooden planks, and windows lined across the next building, all with their shades drawn.

"Matt told me to break up with Misa."

I suddenly hated the sound of my voice.

It took L a long time to answer. "Maybe I was wrong about him, then. I'm sorry for my misconception."

"Do you want me to call Mello? He probably has an eight ball to spare."

L shrugged his thin shoulders into my chest. "That's not your brightest question," he chuckled.


	13. Witness

**A/N:** Woo, I'm on a role. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Reviews are much appreciated!

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><p>The text message at 3 in the morning should have been my third and final clue that everything was about to blow up in my face. The one Matt sent, beginning me to wake up, to get out of my house as soon as possible so we could talk. And I read it after I turned my phone on in some weird 4AM delirium. That, paired with a bunch of voicemails I didn't listen to, should have woken me. But my exhaustion influenced me much more, nudging the phone from my fingers until my dreams made me forget where I was.<p>

I woke up two hours later to the blaring sound of my alarm. My skin crawled from some unmemorable dream. I breathed in the familiar lavender scent from the soap Maria had used practically my whole life. The shriek from the alarm escalated and I finally slammed my hand on the snooze button. Future me would deal with waking up again, and I passed back out.

Ten minutes later, I hated past me as I swung my legs over the bed and turned my alarm off. Something scratched at the inside of my nose, and I wiped it on my forearm. As my vision came into focus, a memory of the strange text from Matt came tapping at my thoughts. It's funny how you react when something unexplainable happens. Like the person you've fallen for sends you a strange text. I thought it was a dream. In fact, I went through my whole goddamn morning routine, from brushing my teeth to scrubbing conditioner into my hair for ten minutes, believing it was a dream.

And as I waddled into the kitchen, running my fingers through my freshly washed hair, I came face to face with something much more unpleasant than realizing I had confused reality for a dream. Sitting on the kitchen table were two copies of the Daily News, each opened to a different page: the first and seventh.

_We need to talk. NOW. Light, PICK UP YOUR PHONE. THIS IS AN EMERGENCY. WE NEED TO TALK. _

_PICK UP_

_LIGHT, CHRIS GOT A PICTURE OF US._

And his warnings suddenly made sense. There it was. Printed right on the front of the Daily News, for the whole of New York to see. Light Yagami, Soichiro Yagami's son, kissing another man in front of a little breakfast bistro that had great imported coffee. The son of the most avid anti-gay marriage activist in all of New York City. Kissing. Another. Man.

My father has worked harder than most men I know. He fights every day, battling against a city who hates everything he stands for just because he believes in a cause. The Yagami empire was built upon this cause, this ignorant principle that two people of the same gender do not legitimately love each other. That anything non-vanilla was totally wrong. My father fights because he sincerely believes it, and many people in power find it admirable, but mostly because we're wealthy and he can tip the man who shines his shoes forty dollars each week.

And as I stared at the picture, watching as the black and white lines blurred together until I could barely tell the difference between my face and Matt's, bile inched up my throat and forced me onto my knees. I swallowed, the sour taste staining my esophagus. I don't know how long I was kneeling, examining the delicately placed cracks in the tile, before my phone vibrated on the kitchen table. I remained on the floor, blindly searching for the phone with my hands.

Matt.

I answered, but suddenly realized I couldn't speak.

"Light?" Matt's voice was somber. The bile rose in my throat again.

"Ye-yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

I wasn't. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Did your dad say anything?"

"About what?"

He paused. "Light, have you seen.."

"Yes."

He began to explain with short, rushed statements, begging me to understand that he meant for none of it to happen. Chris, his ex, had followed us. Apparently, he followed Matt more than he realized. Chris had followed us, snapped a picture, and threatened to send it to the news unless Matt admitted he still loved him. Matt couldn't. He apologized to me over and over on the phone. I couldn't feel my feet. Sweat clutched at my palms.

"Why couldn't you have just said you fucking loved him?" I growled.

"What? Light, it's not that simple."

"It is. It is _that_ simple. They're three fucking words."

"He wanted more."

"Oh, excuse me. He wanted _more_. So let me get this straight. You will screw anything, _except_ your ex?"

Matt was silent, so I continued. "Do you know what you've done? Do you know what my father is going to do? Because I don't. I have no clue _what_ he's going to do. But, that's alright, I guess, because at least you didn't have to sleep with your ex."

"Whatever."

With that, he hung up. And I was alone on the floor, surrounded by white tiles and meticulously drawn cracks. I threw my phone at the wall. The phone exploded, showering crystallized dust and bits of hardware. I crawled toward the mess, scooping it into my hands. A larger shard of glass slid into my finger, nestling itself under my skin. It should have hurt, and honestly, I don't remember if it did. I just remember yanking the piece out from my finger, watching as the skin folded back to its original shape. I wiped the drops of blood onto my silk pajamas. I kept sweeping the mess with my bare hands until footsteps approached the kitchen. I turned up to face Maria.

"I'll clean," she mumbled, pulling at my shoulder and helping me up. I dusted off the bits of glass clinging to my pants and wandered back to my room. I lay out my uniform on my dresser the night before, as I always do. The fabric felt different between my fingers. Almost cheaper. And the buttons on my shirt suddenly seemed uneven. I threw the uniform on, not bothering to check my reflection before I left the apartment.

It was another day void of color. Only the yellow taxis stood out, but even they had a gray film cast over them. The doorman told me to have a great day as I walked past him. So I turned around and asked him if that jacket was suffocating his fat stomach. Then I threw at twenty at him, although it caught a breeze and drifted by his feet. His mouth was hanging open and I had to stop myself from telling him he looked like a suckling pig.

About halfway down the avenue, I realized I forgot my bag. Just before I turned around, I spotted L's limo sitting at the corner. He was slouched against the door, twirling what looked like a grape lollipop between his fingers. He raised his hand when we made eye contact.

"Nice day, huh?" he said as I got closer.

"What the fuck is wrong with everyone?" I grumbled, pulling at my pea coat to brace the wind. My fingers brushed against a plastic baggie in my pocket. I tried not to think about it as L held the limo door open for me.

"Apparently my sarcasm has not improved."

"I forgot my bag," I told him.

"Want to get it?"

"No."

As the limo pulled up to a red light, L began to dig through his bag. His skin still looked too pale, too clammy, but I made no mention of it. My whole body felt numb. On the street, right next to us, was a Daily News container with my goddamn picture on the front. Some guy in an ugly, emerald green jacket was retrieving a copy.

"I'm gonna puke," I mumbled and pushed the door open.

I steadied palms on my knees as I gagged and heaved, but nothing came up. A bit of dribble ran down my chin and I wiped it off with the back of my hand. The man in the green jacket was watching me, clutching the Daily News against his chest.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" I snarled. "You look like you're wearing algae!"

"Okay, come on," L was pulling me into the car, pawing at my arms.

My head was spinning and I turned to bat him away, but winded up slamming the back of my hand into his cheek. He froze, blinking as I yanked my hand away. Before I could apologize, he retreated into the limo. I followed him, collapsing against the closed door. A small red mark had appeared under his lip.

"L, I'm sorry. You just got in the way."

He didn't say anything as the limo turned the corner, nearing the school. Right before we pulled up, he took out a small bag, dabbed some powder onto his index finger, and inhaled it sharply through his nose. "You obviously overestimate your strength," he finally said with a small smile.

"Are you okay?" I asked as he handed me the baggie. I mimicked him and scratched my nose after I cleaned my finger.

"I should be asking you that."

"I'm fine."

He studied me with those wide eyes. "Alright."

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><p>My dad understands a thing or two about damage control. Being one of the most disliked conservatives in a widely liberal city gives him a lot of practice in the matter. As L and I walked into school, I regretted not studying my father's methods carefully because as soon as I appeared in anyone's line of vision, they would either ignore me completely, sneer, or whisper something to their friend. I walked through the halls, trying to maintain the confident posture that had previously got me so far, but as I neared my locker, and the giggles surrounding me intensified, I felt like my chest was deflating. And on my locker, taped up for every passing student and teacher to see, was the cover of the Daily News. I ripped it up. My hands trembled as the pieces of the article drifted to the floor.<p>

"What? You're all five years old?" I snapped to no one in particular. A group of girls next to me, one of the girls was in my French class, roared with laughter. L lingered next to me, running his thumb across his lips. I stuffed my jacket into my locker and followed L as he headed for Biology.

Erik was sitting in a different seat. And when I waved to him, he gave me a half shrug and raised his fingertips. The whole class was watching me, completely silent, waiting to see my next move. Even the fat, pimple-covered girl that always sat in the front had this look of satisfaction plastered on her face as I walked by. L and I sat down in the back empty seats.

"I left that worksheet in my bag," I muttered. "Great. Just perfect. I worked on it all night, and forgot my bag. Excellent."

I pressed my chest up, folding my hands onto my lap. I repeated to myself over and over that the situation wasn't too bad, and could have been so much worse. But I had yet to see my father or Misa, and the repetition began to sound a bit like a satanic chant. My stomach began to churn.

"I'm going to the bathroom," I told L and walked out the door.

In the hall, my lungs chest with what felt like thousands upon millions of tiny dust particles suffocating me, eating away at the lung tissue until I was hyperventilating with my back pressed against the lockers. I stumbled down the hall, keeping my sweaty palm against the cool metal of the lockers. My knees shook under my weight, but I had to get to the bathroom, conceal myself. I passed Mark, one of the guys I sit with at lunch, but he avoided eye contact and whistled as he walked on.

Just as I reached the bathroom, footsteps approached me from behind. I pushed into the bathroom, not wanting to face anyone. L came in right behind me, with his bag slung on his shoulders. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"And go where?"

He reached his hand out. "It doesn't matter. My house, the park, another country? Does Paris sound good? How about Japan? I heard Australia is nice around this time."

"Yeah, Australia sounds good," I sniffed and took his hand. He wrapped his fingers around mine and pulled me from the bathroom, guiding me down the hallway. My vision was clouded, but L led on, his skin still clammy from the fever. He saved me, I guess. He has a knack for that.

Just as we reached the entrance, I heard Misa squeak my name. It took everything in me not to run out that door and never go back, but I somehow managed to turn around and face her. Tears were pouring down her cheeks. "You...you cheated on me," she gasped.

"Misa, I'm..." I reached out and she yanked her shoulder away. I pulled my hand back to my side when I realized it was trembling.

"You're a LIAR," she shrieked. Half of the goddamn student body must have heard it because a small earthquake rumbled the tiles of the schools. She stomped her foot as I took another step toward her. "How could you say you _loved_ me, then go kiss someone else? You're such a selfish prick! I did so much for you. I sacrificed _so much_ for you. Why? Why _me_?"

Heads were beginning to peer out of classrooms, watching in silent ecstasy as the queen bee finally destroyed her king. I stood my ground, though. I wanted to fight for one last ounce of dignity, and maybe gain one more understanding companion. The adrenaline pumping through my body wouldn't let me back down. But Misa was crying, and I didn't know if she actually had the mental capacity to understand.

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not," she sobbed. "You don't care about me at all. You lied to me. And with _Matt? _God, even I know he's freaking sleazeball, but you decided to pick him over me? _Me_?"

"Misa, I love you_, _and I care about you very much. Please, let's talk outside. People are listening."

"No," she snapped. "Is that why you've been ignoring me? Because you've been with him? God, why couldn't you have just _told_ me. I look like a total moron now!"

I mean, in all honesty, hasn't she always? But I kept my mouth shut as she continued her rant, at points barely audible through her tears. When she finally seemed to blow off steam, or at least strain her voice, I reached toward her and grasped her hands.

"Misa, look at me." She did, with her big, pathetic, watery eyes. "You will meet someone who will adore you. And you deserve that. I'm sorry I led you on. I do love you. But I wasn't happy. Not just with you, with everything." I rambled on, but the words streaming from my lips felt so good. I kept going until she interrupted me.

"What's wrong with your eyes?" she suddenly asked, yanking her hand away. "Are you like, stoned or something?"

"Allergies."

"Light, I'm not an idiot," she said as she wiped mascara coated tears from her cheeks.

"No, no, you're not. You're right." Frustration was crawling up my spine, but I suppressed it, maintaining my composure.

"Then tell me, right now, so I don't have to _deal_ with you anymore. Did you fuck Matt? And tell me the truth. I deserve the truth, Light! It's not fair."

"I..."

"We've dated for so freaking long, and you just happened to forget that you like men? What about all those times we made love, Light? Did you know then, too? Because I thought it meant something. Were you just using me as some, like, _dummy_? Because I was easy?"

My head was spinning. "No, Misa, you're not easy."

"Oh God, I'm easy," she blubbered.

"No, not at all!" I wrapped my arms around her neck. "Just stop crying, okay? I don't know what else to do, Misa. I don't know how to make you feel better. I'm sorry."

She turned her face up toward mine. "So then, you're like, gay?"

I bowed my head and pressed my lips against the perfect skin on her forehead. She stood still. Before I could even process a response, the words "I hope not" breathed through.


	14. Fight

**A/N:** Hi all! Sorry for the long wait. I rewrote this chapter a few times, because it kept coming out so terribly. Some drafts were long an boring, others didn't go where I wanted them to. I feel a bit more confident with this chapter, though. It definitely moves a bit quicker than the other drafts, but maybe that's for the best. It's time for Light to stop acting like a coward!

The next chapter will be coming up quickly, though. Matt will finally be coming back, as well!

* * *

><p>It had been a week and a half since my life went to shit. Or maybe it was the greatest week and a half of my life. It's hard to judge from this cell. The paint on the walls has chipped away from years of neglect. The copper stains in the toilet may be older than me. And the man sitting only a bench away from me won't avert his gaze. I know the look. I've seen it before. How his eyes squint, how he keeps flexing his fists. His anger shields the need buried deep within. I stare back, almost telling him to just fucking take me, and stop being such a bitch about it. If I turned my back on my family, he should at least be able to turn me around.<p>

I run my fingers through my hair. The cell smells like someone dribbled some lemon on a piss puddle. The circulation in my toes is beginning to falter. My gaze never wavers from the man on the bench, though. His chest hair pops out of his button-down flannel. The shirt hangs off his body. I could advise him, let him know he's not playing up his strengths, but at this moment, I can't distinguish them from his flaws. His nose is bent, as if someone smashed a chair across the cartilage. Patches of wispy hair are layered across his cheeks, as if someone had burned off half his beard with a lighter. My eyes, already watery, burn. He's ugly. Disfigured. I wonder if he feels the same about me. I scratch my arm until my fingernails peel off some skin.

Something is building up in my chest. A shout, a cry for help. The hillbilly will be the only one who hears it. And I'm not sure if his ears are good enough to hear my laments. I know how I sound. I know how cruel I am. But at least I can recognize my own selfishness. He probably doesn't even notice his own nose peaking through his peripheral.

My life was mapped out for me. But I rebelled. I found a spec of integrity hidden beneath the personality my father built for me before I was even conceived. I fought him. Sure, I lost badly, but I stood up against him. By the end, I was coughing up blood. And instead of calling a hospital, my mom handed me a paper towel and sent me on my way.

I sure as hell don't deserve to be locked up for embracing who I am.

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><p>After I ditched the rest of class, I begged L to take me back to his place. He complied after I offered him an eight-ball. We picked it up, then headed back to his overly-decorated apartment. As we walked through his halls, I let him know how tacky the fountain downstairs was.<p>

"Do you want some water?" he simply replied.

"No."

When we reached his room, he tugged his uniform off. He peeled the fabric off his sweaty body and began to meticulously fold his shirt. "How are you doing?" he asked as he creased the elbow.

"Don't you think that fountain is tacky?"

"I'll just assume you're fine, then." He smoothed his white t-shirt, running his boney fingers up and down his chest. "Would it be unhygienic if I wore my uniform again?"

"Before you washed it?"

"Yeah."

"Probably. Just toss it in the hamper."

He examined the shirt-square sitting on his desk. "I only wore it for half a day."

"Then don't wash it." I retrieved the eight-ball from my pocket. "Want some now?"

He began to pace, drumming his fingers along the dresser. "If I wear it later, but know I wore it for half a day already, will I feel sloppy halfway through the day?"

"I don't fucking know, L." I threw the baggy on the floor. "Can we just do this?"

"Will you shuffle my shirts around? It may just be all in my head," he tapped his forehead and widened his eyes.

"Shut the fuck up."

"It's just a simple question."

I wound up agreeing to it. When he turned his back, though, I just threw the shirt into the drawer. "There. Done."

He smiled and held up the baggy.

A few minutes later, I picked my head up from his dresser and took a step back. I wiped my nose and placed my shaking hand on the arm of the swiveling computer chair he was sitting in. He swung the seat back and forth, almost knocking me over. "Watch what you're doing," I snapped.

"You're the one who's leaning on my spinning chair," he pushed his feet against the desk and rolled backwards. "Will you sit with me? It helps me think"

"No." I scratched my nose again. "What am I going to do? Fuck, L, everything is ruined. Because of a picture. I have to do something. I have to make a public announcement, claim it was a misunderstanding. I was just bored, you know? We all make mistakes when we're bored. The public will have to understand. My father will have to understand."

I was so wrapped up in my plot, I hadn't noticed L stand up. He grabbed my face, pressing his palms against my cheeks. "Relax," he said, squeezing my cheeks. "You're getting yourself too worked up. You'll be fine."

"Get off me," I knocked his hands away. "You don't get it. I won't have any money, family, friends. I won't be able to afford an Ivy league school on my own. I'm going to be alone."

"Here's how I see it." He took his place in the computer chair, crouching on his heels. "If you lived here for a year, you could keep steady contact with your sister, correct? Maybe she could provide a bit of money." He jumped up and began to walk in circles. "Any university would admire the attention you receive from the press. You just need the right kind of attention. Think about it. Your father is despised among the LGBT community, and probably other demographics, as well. And you, his only son, stand up against him? You could be a hero."

"That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard," I lied. "I'm not going to be some fucking fairy king. I'm straight, L. What are you refusing to accept that? This was all a huge mistake. I got wrapped up. I just want to fix it."

"Why are you so consumed with hiding how you feel?"

"Because I don't feel anything," I snapped.

He watched me, and I suddenly did feel something. My fingers trembled and I sat on the bed. He took the seat next to me, crouching on his heels. His face, only inches from mine, contorted as he asked, "why were you bored two weeks ago?"

"What?"

"I watched you in biology. There was nothing to do in that class except study our peers. I had learned everything two years before. You were particularly interesting. At first, every student seemed to flock to you. They laughed at everything you said, and you were more than happy to provide them entertainment. But steadily, you ignored those around you. You began to doodle, and roll your eyes after your so-called friends turned their backs. You tapped your toes when the teacher lectured. A few days before I picked you up, I noticed you didn't button your shirt correctly."

I couldn't even remember when my buttons were done properly. My cheeks burned. "So?"

"The wall you worked so hard to set up was beginning to crumble."

"What wall? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You're the personality your father has always wanted you to be. And you've reached the age when you're beginning to question who you are. Do you always want to follow in your father's oppressive footsteps? Let him continue to stomp on your dependence? Who are you?"

"I'm who I've always been."

"You're happy. I see you smile in biology. You sit there, listen, and you smile."

I shouldn't have been angry, but I was. He was absolutely right, but who the hell wants to admit when someone knows you better than you do? Instead of giving in, though, I stomped over to his dresser and tore his shirt drawer open. "This," I held up the shirt he had just folded. "This is the fucking shirt you wore today." I grabbed another identical shirt. "Isn't it stupid how wrapped up you got about a piece of fabric?" I grabbed a handful more, and threw them out the window. One of the shirts caught his fire escape. The arm flapped, waving lazily to the traffic below. L sat there, staring out his window.

"And you know what?" I opened his other drawer. "Why would you need your uniform pants?"

Just as I went to throw a bundle of grey slacks out the window, L caught my arm and pushed me back. He punched me in the nose. It felt like someone shoved lit matches up my nostrils. I stumbled back, clutching my nose as blood poured out. I curled my hand into a fist, about to retaliate, but he knocked me against his bed, pinning my arms into one hand.

"Do something," he laughed.

I opened my mouth to shout, but he slapped his other hand over my mouth. I struggled underneath him. My feet kicked out, but he was surprisingly strong. Adrenaline pumped through my veins. His grip on my face widened. The air from my lungs escaped, and when I tried to breathe again, I realized he was choking me. He began to rifle through my pockets, throwing its contents to the floor. So I snapped my knee up, hitting him right between the thighs. He fell to the ground, grinning.

"What the fuck?" I shouted, trying to catch my breath. "You could've killed me."

"Yes, that's possible, but you didn't let me."

"This isn't some fucking game."

I tried to hit him a few more times than I care to admit. He dodged every punch, asking me to relax over and over. For a few minutes, it seemed like the heavy stream of testosterone would never end. But just as quickly as my anger escalated, my heart rate began to slow down. It was almost as if L heard it. He sat down on the floor and crossed his legs. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"How do you think?"

"Okay. Well, then what do you want to do about it?"

"Fight." The word came too easily.

The bastard was smiling at me. "Good."

The next few hours, we bounced ideas back and fourth. He struggled to convince me that lying would only make matters worse, at least in the long term. But I couldn't see it like that. How could I maintain my lifestyle if I didn't have access to my father's bank account? Where would I sleep? How would I afford a good school? Somehow, L had answers for everything. And I hated every one of them.

He kept asking why I went out with L in the first place, why I swallowed the ecstasy Matt slipped into my mouth, why I slept with him. "I was bored," became my mantra.

"You're in denial," was his.

We were both lying on his floor, his head by my feet and mine by his. He wiggled his toes in the air, stretching them, and flexing them again. The wrinkles on the soles of his feet kept winking at me.

"Fine," I finally admitted. "You're right. But what the hell am I going to do?"

He propped himself on his elbows. "Like you said: fight."


End file.
